


Complications May Occur

by etymologizethis



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Aphrodisiacs, F/M, Future Fic, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymologizethis/pseuds/etymologizethis
Summary: Taking the chance, Ladybug flung her yo-yo and wound it around the beaker. With one smooth motion, she retracted it down towards the ground, smashing it at her feet and–Light blue gas exploded in her face.Things go awry. Marinette reconsiders the rules.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 30
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This _was_ just a sex pollen fic. And then it mutated into this whole messy thesis about Marinette going 'oh no' in Chat Noir's general direction. With world-building. 
> 
> Welp.

There was just a crying orangutan. 

"Where did–what? _What?_ " Ladybug gaped, skidding to a halt, arm frozen in mid-yo-yo throw aimed at an–

At an orangutan. An _orangutan._

Her yo-yo landed 10 meters off the mark with incredulous _thunk._

She swore she had heard screaming and running and the usual chaos cacophony that accompanied an akuma attack on her way home. She even passed a crowd of tourists escaping a bus when she was searching for a discreet place to transform.

It _was_ entirely possible she'd taken too long making sure none of her former classmates saw her. But better too careful than too careless, right? 

She already learned the hard and mortifying way that as much as Tikki's magic obscured Ladybug's identity, it didn't stop _Marinette_ from being followed into an alleyway after leaving mid-get together and then be given a sudden intervention about her abrupt exits and slapdash excuses while a would-be Olympian raged at the _Stade de France_. 

How she wriggled out of that one would not be in the hypothetical slideshow of her finest moments.

Most of her friends had eventually let up, if only because they didn't see the horrific mangle Ladybug could still make of Marinette's time management on a daily basis. But it also didn't hurt when Ladybug started to entrust Miraculouses to them on a more regular basis. Now, they had their own sudden excuses to make.

But this time there were no sewn-together explanations. She had actually left for a reason other than hush-hush magical possession business.

...Technically, now a good reason turned shaky alibi turned inadvertent lie.

_Alya._

Marinette was a _terrible_ friend.

She really had intended to go straight home to check up on Alya and make sure she hadn't escaped the apartment to prowl the streets. Particularly considering her last fever-dazed text was to the significantly better-spelled tune of:

_'le bug quotidien' who? trying to take my blog down because they can't get the exclusives I can get? I could even get one now! what's this measly little blip of a nothing fever in the face of maintaining my site's rep as THE number one ladybug news source? earned through oodles of blood (mine) sweat (mine) tears (mostly yours and nino's) stunningly good photography and web design skills (all me) and cute merch (all you) can you hear the people mari the next bug scoop will be miiiiine_

Well, this just in: Ladybug Confronts Sobbing Orangutan. In a suit. A _designer_ suit. Huddled next to a deserted taxi in an equally deserted street as it clutched a partly-open briefcase with papers spilling out of it onto the ground.

Ladybug reflexively recalled her yo-yo with a flick of her wrist, and looked around for clues as to _what happened_ in the few minutes it took her to arrive on the scene. But it only took a quick glance to see that there was nothing telling save for the obvious orange orangutan and the less noticeable translucent yellow substance splattered on and around–

A cheerful shout somewhere high behind her was her only warning before Chat Noir landed at her side with all the grace and aplomb of someone taking his superhero motif a bit too literally.

But there he was.

"You shame me with your speed, Ladybug," he proclaimed, amazingly even sunnier than usual whenever she showed him up in some respect. "And here I thought for sure I would be–"

Having been there, done that – Chat Noir's fleeting glance and immediate double take made her smother a smile. 

He blinked rapidly. "Uh...?" He held up a questioning finger, just for a moment, before it drooped and retracted to cup his chin with his thumb. "Hm." Head canted in thought, he leisurely tap-tap-tapped his cheek. She could see the slow beginnings of smirk buried in the corners of his mouth, itching to come out. "Hmmm."

Without a doubt, the cogs in his ridiculously fluffy head were furiously working. Always greased up and ready to go when the occasion called for it – the gears twisting and turning just enough for inspiration to spark with a snap of his fingers and a wide delighted grin. "A hairy situation no doubt, but at least you're dressed for the part!"

The orangutan cried louder.

" _Chaton._ " 

"It was a compliment! I quite like that particular monkey suit of his actually. Designer, no? A Wilhelm van...?" he trailed off, the smile morphing into a contemplative lip purse. "Wilhelm van Chi–Cha... Chaa–auveau? Mm, no, no, that's not it." He concentrated on the suit with the grim determination of a cat staring at a dangling piece of string.

"Wilhelm van Chapeau. Wilhelm van Chevalier. Wilhelm van Chatelain. Wilhelm van...Chat? An improvement, but no." He sighed mournfully and extended his baton just to slouch on it. "Ah, what have I done to myself..."

The sad monkey was not something easily overlooked, but she let herself take in the one cat sideshow for a moment. It was...nice. Seeing him in motion, humor as cheerfully dubious as ever, everything together and attached.

"Ladybug?"

She straightened her shoulders. "Wilhelm van _Chic_." Not one of her favorite designers, but it was always interesting to see the blend of German and French fashion. And his new collection did have some intriguing pattern-work she'd love to get a closer look at. 

"That's the one!" He spun around, finger pointing back at the suit and its significantly less excited occupant. "And here I was just about to write it off as Wilhelm van Chimp."

She glanced at the punchline of that gem, and was thankful to see it had gone unheard. "That might just be horrific enough to count as animal cruelty."

"Natural Selection." Chat grinned, flexing his claws. 

Ladybug shook her head, amused despite trying her hardest not to be. "Okay, enough of that. Time to focus." _And_ _stop monkeying around,_ was on the tip of her tongue. But no need to inspire an even more furious round of crying.

"Of course, my lady." Chat Noir bowed deeply and tilted his head up enough to give her a wink.

Her head asserted habitual cheekiness, but that wink tittered _puntuition_.

Flicking the forehead whose only crime was sharing real estate with that stupidly pleased grin, Ladybug turned back to the matter at hand – the very hairy, very much weeping matter – and ignored Chat's exaggerated warble of protest.

Stifling a laugh, she walked more decisively towards the orangutan. Which...now that she was closer was maybe, just _maybe_ , more man than monkey? To be specific, a man with an unbelievable amount of orange-reddish hair that was quite literally all over his body and strained, if not outright ripped, the seams in his, yes, original Wilhelm van Chic suit. 

But in her defense, the way the hair had grown in around his face and hands had a very, _well_ , primate-esque quality about it. His height also seemed a little...little. And those lips weren't exactly human-like...were they?

Her empathy gave her a chastising smack to the heart. 

"Excuse me, monsieur?" Gently, oh-so-gently. She didn't need to make him even more upset.

"Do you know who did this to you? And where they went?" _Are you okay_ , was her first instinct, but that could go down just as well as one of Chat's jibes. And, she noted with relief as she got closer, just when his crying had wound down into damp sniffling.

She knew he had heard her with how he twitched and hunched in on himself at her approach. But she only heard the man struggle to get his breathing back to an even tempo, that is, until he took a noisy gulp of breath and then– "S-She said there were medications now!" he burst out, scrambling up to his feet and scattering more papers as he let his briefcase clatter to the ground. Haltingly, he lurched towards Ladybug, hand stretched out.

Ladybug stepped back, suddenly less sure if he was just a distraught victim or a magically compelled accomplice who just realized two sets of Miraculouses were within snatching distance. 

All signs pointed to the former, but being catastrophically wrong once (or twice) tended to leave an impression.

"Oh?" Chat Noir inquired lightly, stance shifting as well.

"Who did?" Ladybug asked, testing the waters.

"A-A woman, a doctor, I think? Or, or some sort of scientist? I don't–wait, _no_ , I do. She had to be. How could she be anything else with that outfit? And that h-ha–" The man's voice hit a high, watery pitch and broke. "–her...her _hair_. Like she got electrocuted."

"What did she do exactly?" she pressed, some half-formed theories already in her mind.

"She told me she could cure my, m-my..." he swallowed and noisily breathed out his nose, visibly trying not to tear up again, "...my...baldness," he mumbled, clutching a head that was so far from that side of the spectrum it fell off the other end.

"Ah." Their understanding was in stereo.

The man cleared his throat and wiped his dripping nose with a soggy handkerchief that had been crammed into his front coat pocket. "I didn't even have time to answer before she splattered this yellow gel on me and then I...it started... Look at what she did to me! It all happened so fast, and suddenly everything was _itchy_ and _there_ and _not going away_. I can't believe she–then I, I...and now all my documents are everywhere and, and my suit! My god, I have a dinner meeting tonight! That jackal Fournier is going to swoop in and make up all these ludicrous lies about why I couldn't–couldn't..." 

He slumped back to the ground, head in his hands. "Why today of all days...?"

More or less convinced, Ladybug walked up to the man and put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid said yellow goo. "Well, monsieur, if everything goes as planned, everything will be back to normal soon."

"Which would go much faster if you would kindly point us in the direction your assailant went. After all..." Chat Noir took a showy glance around. "It seems like no one else is hair, so your assistance would be most appreciated."

The man nodded, thankfully oblivious, and pointed behind him. "That way. She went–" His mouth froze open as his eyes popped out in slow-motion horror. Hastily, he angled his sitting body in the direction he indicated and eyed it intently, misery seemingly pushed aside to concentrate better.

But Ladybug could see the exact second it came flooding back as he slowly turned back to them and meekly amended, "...I think."

Ladybug winced. So much for a short outing before going back home.

Chat Noir scratched his head, apparently not sure what to make of this tip either. "Where's your lady blogger when we need her?"

She held back the second wince. Not that she could tell him but: on illness-related and Marinette-imposed house arrest. Which she desperately hoped wasn't broken now that Ladybug was out and about.

Before she left for the day, Marinette had almost whipped up a makeshift contract for Alya to sign and swear to not leave the apartment. Not being there for a somewhat rare group meet-up was a bitter pill to swallow, even if she wasn't the only one absent, but missing a Ladybug sighting? When a rival blog seemed bound and determined to smear both Alya and Ladybug? Marinette didn't care how much revenue the site brought in or about Alya Césaire's (suddenly quadrupled) Tenets of Vigilante Journalism or how Rena Rouge could help save the day when the full time blogger, part-time superhero had a _39.1 degree fever_.

...With that being said, and as much as she never got used to seeing her best friend near and in danger, Alya had proved to be an amazing partner and a reliable informant who provided better information than _that direction, maybe._

Just not while sick.

"Ah, thank you?" Still, he had tried at least. And it wasn't his fault he was upset. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"She...um." The man fiddled with his handkerchief, struggling to remember. "She stole a car? A black one. ...Maybe grey?"

A car bore fruit to a number of possibilities and implications – not the least of which was the lack of supernatural ways to move around quickly. They could use that. "Thank you, that helps a lot."

She bent down low enough to swipe his briefcase from the ground and handed back it to him. "We'll do our best to deal with this as quickly as we can. But you should find somewhere safe to go, just in case. And maybe you should try to wash the rest of that stuff off. Carefully though!" With a parting smile, Ladybug revved up her yo-yo and–

"If you rather not wait, my fine fluffy friend, may I recommend a hair stylist? Or perhaps a groomer?"

–let it fly, knowing that Chat Noir would catch up as soon as he got this bit of mischief out of his system.

Deciding to take a chance on the man's spotty memory, Ladybug zipped through and over the streets of Paris, keeping roughly southward while checking on the traffic below. A car, he had said. Black, maybe grey.

She didn't know if the powers bestowed onto the victims of Hawk Moth's akuma were luck of the draw that had no other limitations than being related to the source of the victim's negative emotions or if Hawk Moth had some measure of control over it. But having amazing, terrifying powers at your fingertips and still being forced to deal with Paris traffic mid-vengeance-fueled crusade seemed... Annoying. Also, wildly dangerous. 

It made for better tracking though. It wasn't hard to differentiate between good old fashioned road rage and the suped up akumatized version. Not when the other drivers and pedestrians turned into attacking geese or yelled entirely in Middle French. Rarely did akuma victims play act being normal once a little butterfly possessed them.

And yet...there was nothing amiss in her quick run around the central arrondissements on the right bank. Feeling both put-out and suspicious, she made to cross the Seine when, finally, Chat Noir rejoined her, tracking her down and catching up to her pace with an ease she had come to expect from him. 

"If it isn't the illustrious Ladybug!" he crowed out to her while vaulting from one cluster of roofs to the next. "Do you often frequent these rooftops or is this just Lady Luck smiling down on me?"

She gave a small huff of amusement, his glee infectious. "Someone's in a good mood today. Is the idea of fighting a possible mad scientist that exciting?" She paused on top of a particularly tall chimney to get a better view of the city. But as far as she could tell, there wasn't anything out of the ordinary. No property destruction, no alerts save for that very first ping – even the traffic was its normal, congested self.

All in all, unsettling. The subtle akuma who played a longer game than immediate chaos were always the hardest to catch. Last week was a blunt reminder of that.

Then again, it could just be some really bad directions.

With one last flashy flip, Chat Noir came to a stop on the roof below her. "Implying that not every fight with you is exciting? Note that I didn't say it was always easygoing," he allowed, preemptively interrupting her incredulous look and impromptu cross-examination of his short-term memory.

"But you have to admit there's something exhilarating about scurrying around the city doing impossible things in an improbable outfit with an implausibly impressive partner." He threw her a wink before leaning back on the chimney, staring up at the sky. "Seven years isn't enough to dampen that," he sighed, voice surprisingly wistful for someone who just said he was in the middle of one of those thrilling moments.

But she'd be lying if she said she didn't understand.

"In fact," he tilted his head high enough to meet her eyes with a familiar, easy impishness, "my day as a regular, unassuming citizen of Paris could be a complete and utter cataclysm, the less hands on kind," he waggled his fingers, "and I couldn't think of a single better pick-me-up than spending time helping the populace with their emotional issues one by one with my favorite bug." His eyelashes fluttered furiously in her direction.

She scoffed, but smiled anyway. "You say that now, but your tune might change if you get splashed with whatever our culprit is carrying." 

As Ladybug, the repartee she had with Chat Noir was much like roof pirouetting: Mostly reactive and less impressive if she thought about it too hard. Even with her spectacularly embarrassing school years behind her, she still sometimes caught herself marveling at how effortlessly words and actions came to her as Ladybug.

Sometimes, so effortlessly that she didn't notice the distinct taste of feet.

Her offhand words now fully registered, Ladybug took a moment to chew on them and her bottom lip before deciding to let them go. It was ridiculous. _She_ was being ridiculous.

"It's true, I don't savor the idea of seeing myself as a long-haired cat," Chat mused, focused on tugging a lock of his hair. It was longer than how he usually kept it these days. There was a time when it had grown enough that the magic accommodated the change and tied his hair back for him. But if the way he kept fussing with it was any indication, he'd probably get a trim soon.

If he got the chance anyway.

_Stop it. Let it go._

"If that's all she can brew up." Ladybug flipped open her yo-yo, trying to keep her mind away from the rabbit hole it kept trying to drag her down into. It wouldn't hurt to note some nearby hospitals, pharmacies, laboratories, and clinics. Maybe vet hospitals and hair salons if nothing else turned up and they had to start questioning their hairy monsieur's assessment of his attacker. Pet groomers...she liked to say it was a rock bottom choice, but the realm of reason was a finicky thing when it came to akuma. 

"You think she didn't dedicate her life to curing one of the greatest threats to human vanity?" Chat cracked his neck and turned to lean on the chimney with one hand, still mussing up his hair with the other.

"If she did, then this will be a lot easier than I'm imagining it'll be." But then, her imagination was still stuck on seeing stone fragments scattered on the ground. And the chances of that happening again were small. Hardly worth mentioning.

"Oho, and what exactly is in this imagination of yours?"

"I just meant..." She hesitated. She could just joke back or roll her eyes like Chat Noir expected her to and _not_ poke at this particular bruise. And then maybe they could continue their much-delayed search for the actual, tangible threat roaming around unchecked.

"Like the akuma from last week." Or maybe it was less of a bruise and more of a gash that dirt, spit, and a week of attempted ignoring couldn't fix. "The art critic? It was...difficult, fighting him. I wasn't as careful as I should have been with someone who could turn me into a statue with one look. But hairy? I can deal with a little hairiness if it comes to it." 

If he knew what she was getting at, he didn't let on as he put one hand to his heart while fixing her with earnest eyes. "My lady, as if I would ever let you get hit." 

Ladybug pursed her lips and shut her yo-yo. And there it was. "Right. You just take the hit yourself, and then I end up fighting you or without you." Again, last week. He had hip-checked her off the Louvre and out of the way of a stony gaze. For his trouble, he got turned into _Image of a Self-Sacrificing Feline_ and then–

 _And then_ stupid, reckless, heroic Chat Noir had been strewn across the ground in countless little pieces.

In the moment there was no time to think about the what ifs or what nows – not when the art critic had clutched his head in what looked like pain and his chisel was right there, easily snatched with her yo-yo and mercifully broken with both her Lucky Charm and the determination that had been coursing through her to fix things right _now_.

There was only a split second of breathlessness before Chat Noir came back right on cue and no worse for wear save for a little confusion that cleared up when he saw the art critic back to normal. And while that terrible looming feeling hadn't the time to completely manifest, it was enough, despite herself, to make her tetchy and upset in turns all week long.

"I..." Chat Noir faltered slightly, looking taken aback and confused. 

Maybe even a little hurt.

The irritated edge of her concern departed as quickly as it came, leaving her somewhat deflated. "Sorry, putting it like that... That was unfair of me. Really unfair." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, where mask and skin met. 

"It's more like I want you–would like you to, to..." She took a moment to think, making sure to choose her words better this time. "Watch my back, but also watch your own, okay?"

She met his eyes, trying her best to make him _get it_. "I know I was able to bring you back with my Lucky Charm that time. And maybe I could do it again in worse circumstances. But isn't it safer to not always rely on that? What if something happens that I can't fix?"

It was a fear older than Chat Noir assigning himself human-buffer duty – which made that mostly her problem, yes, but him not recklessly throwing himself headlong into the firing line for her sake _somehow_ seemed like it could be an all-around benefit.

Chat's face told her he didn't agree. Or disagree. Or felt some conflicted mixture of both. 

Really, what Chat Noir's face said was, _I am one befuddled man in a cat costume._

"You're talking about last week," he said slowly, like he was waiting for her to contradict him. "When I was turned into a museum piece?" He looked to her for confirmation and continued when she nodded. "Okay, am I missing something? How was that any different than normal?"

A thought occurred to her. A thought so stupidly obvious that she should have considered it long before biting Chat Noir's fuzzy head off.

"...Do you remember anything from when you were turned into a statue?" 

Chat exhaled loudly through his nose. "So there is something to remember." He nodded to himself. "Right. All I know is one second I was face to face with French Pygmalion moonlighting as Medusa for one rage-filled night, and the next I was staring at a baffled man looking at you like your name was Galatea. Though..." He thought for a moment. "There might have been a change in scenery in between? I hadn't given it much thought until now," he admitted, a bit shamefacedly.

Ladybug squinted up at the sky, wishing she had kept her mouth shut. "You really don't know," she muttered to herself.

"I really don't know," he echoed in agreement, showing how inconvenient two sets of ears could be at times. "But I would like to. Especially if it's bothering you this much." 

It was far too late to drop it now, even if she felt like an idiot for dwelling on something he hadn't even known had happened.

"I'm sorry. I thought you knew. But we didn't have time to talk after everything wrapped up."

"We never do," he reminded her, not unkindly but pointedly all the same.

She couldn't argue against that.

"Right," she sighed, deciding where to start. "So. You remember pushing me off the Louvre?"

"Ah...yes?" Chat looked a bit sheepish, then alarmed. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

She shook her head. "I was okay. You weren't." She saw him open his mouth, but pushed on, knowing she'd answer whatever question he had. "I'm not sure if he shoved you or if you were too close to the edge, but right after you were turned into stone....you ended up on the ground. Smashed," she added a bit stiffly, determined to be entirely clear.

"After that, he jumped down. I broke his chisel when he was distracted. And then you know how the rest always goes." Not much else to it, other than a week of being distracted by those few minutes.

Chat Noir absently fiddled with a strand of his hair, taking everything in. "So, what I'm hearing is that I, as an obviously invaluable showpiece of a statue, was chucked off a roof and turned into gravel. But thanks to some quick thinking and magic on your part everything turned out okay?"

His glib summary gave her an idea of where this was going. A very aggravating idea.

"My _entire reason_ for bringing this up is, yes, you came back, but what if you didn't? What if I couldn't?" She had definitely started this all wrong, but she wasn't letting him steamroll her on this. This wasn't the first time she'd mentioned his little habit to him – maybe not as seriously as she should have considering he was always able to sidestep the issue with a soppy comment about the exact blue of her eyes or an airy remark about the safety of the akuma catcher or even more _monkey_ business. 

"Ah. That would explain the looks," Chat remarked, sudden and wry, eyes not moving from the brickwork of the chimney.

 _What looks?_ She almost asked, before thinking better of going down that path. _Not today._ "My point–" was cut off by a small noise of frustration as she looked down at him. Towering over him wasn't how she wanted to do this. That in mind, she hopped off the chimney, landing next to him.

"Chat Noir, listen to me. This is important." She took him by the chin and made him look at her. 

Finally, _hopefully,_ sensing how serious she was about this, he focused on her and kept quiet. 

"I know, sometimes it's unavoidable – that I have to go on because I'm the one who purifies the akuma. I _know_." It was her own bitter pill to swallow, but that didn't mean she had to learn to like the taste. "But other times, there _are_ alternatives to you taking the hit." She knew he could have extended his baton and batted her out of the way if he hadn't gone with his first instinct of _meat shield_.

She took a steadying breath, trying not to let her concern and...and guilt get the better of her. He was always so prepared to lay down everything on the line for her at a moment's notice, wasn't he? While she couldn't even...

She took another breath, focusing on the here and now. 

"It scared me," she said plainly. "When it happened, I was entirely focused on fixing things, but afterwards once I had time to think about it... It's upsetting to think you could do something to save me and then I couldn't return the favor."

Chat Noir opened his mouth, but it was swiftly covered with her hand. He didn't fight it. "Tikki keeps telling me it'll be okay and, so far, it has been. And there's Bunnyx too if things really do get bad. I know I'm probably getting worked up over nothing." It seemed silly when she said it out loud. Whether it was through her Lucky Charm or Bunnyx's Burrow or Viperion's Second Chance, they _had_ come back from worse before. But she also didn't think worrying about the extent of her reality-bending powers was unreasonable. Or seeing her partner put them to the test over and over again.

She removed her hand from his mouth. "You were right. It is exhilarating being out here. But for me... It's always– _always_ better when we fight together. You know that, right?" She tried to catch his eyes when they flicked away.

She had yet to find the right words to convey how _much_ she wanted him to stop being so careless with himself for her sake. But she could hope that these were the ones to finally penetrate that thick, aggravatingly noble head of his and stick.

Even...even if they felt selfish. Maybe even cowardly.

But she couldn't let him forget who Ladybug and Chat Noir were – not bodyguard and damsel nor heroine and lackey, but partners. And partners didn't let partners take up martyrdom like it hadn't gone out of style a couple centuries back.

After a long, drawn out moment, Chat Noir exhaled evenly and finally met her eyes from beneath his fringe. "Yeah, I know."

She smiled, feeling the week-long knot in her chest finally start to loosen. "You better. I don't just call anyone my partner." She flicked his forehead more gently this time. "And I'm not interested in getting a new one, got it?"

While there was Rena Rouge and Carapace, Ryuko and Viperion and Bunnyx, and so many more of her friends she bequeathed the Miraculouses onto, who stepped up to fight with her with a willingness she sometimes found terrifying...

There was first Ladybug and Chat Noir. Them against the world when all else failed.

One side of Chat Noir's mouth lifted into a half-smile. "Got it." Then, slow enough that she could move away, he reached for her hand and smoothly caught it with his own. She expected him to turn it into a cheesy gesture, accompanied by even cheesier words and retain his long-held position of Camembert personified.

But he just held it where it was, along his forehead, lightly brushing against his hair. "As always, I'm thankful to have the honor, my lady," he murmured.

She swallowed and looked away. Well. She wasn't exactly wrong, was she? "If you want to keep having it, keep what I said in mind."

"I will." He lightly squeezed her hand, the pinpricks of his claws on her palm just enough to twinge a bundle of nerves in her back. 

She gulped. Just a bit. "We...should get moving. I think I sidetracked us enough as it is. And it's rude to keep someone waiting, even if they're possessed by an akuma – no, nix that, _especially_ because they're possessed by an akuma," she babbled. In a move that proved she was still Marinette through and through, she clumsily extracted her hand from his grip and robustly patted him on the head _like a dog what are you doing Mari what are you doing_ , before skirting around him to the edge of the roof. 

"Shall we?" she breezily asked the scenery and practically swan dove off in a direction she was mostly sure the nearest hospital was. Maybe a clinic? Hopefully not that wig emporium that popped up during her GPS search. But it was okay, it was fine, she'd figure it out on the way – what was important was to focus on looking for the akuma. _Just_ the akuma.

If she had learned anything as both Marinette and Ladybug, it was that some things couldn't wait and some things had to, but no matter who was behind the mask now, Hawk Moth would never. 

* * *

Of course, that didn't mean their new archnemesis never kept _them_ waiting.

An hour and a half of fruitless searching eventually ended with them at the Eiffel Tower half-wondering if this really was a rare low-key akuma or just an extremely bizarre yet entirely Miraculous-free encounter.

...That somehow involved an incredible concoction that turned a business man into the missing link.

"Science hasn't progressed that far, right? Right?" Ladybug sat with crossed legs and crossed arms, disgruntled to the bone.

"Stranger things have happened," Chat Noir offered as he waved and posed to the people below who had gathered to take pictures. Long had they learned that while this might be one of the best places for scouting the city, inconspicuous it was not.

"Only because they involved a Miraculous!" Ladybug scanned the cityscape again. They must have missed something, somewhere. But patrolling the city was getting them nowhere but fan and paparazzi shots alike.

At least she hadn't seen Alya among the crowd. Not yet anyway.

"Ah, but what's to say there isn't more out there than the Miraculouses? How does the saying go? Maybe there's more to heaven and earth than what's dreamt of in your philosophy?" After one last victory pose for the crowd, Chat Noir flopped down next to her, reclining back onto his arms. "As charming of a philosophy it is."

She shot him a dirty look. "That's what you said when you tried to convince me that ghosts were real, and that was just an akuma. Again." She'd never tell him, but he almost had her convinced too.

"And I'm sure you didn't believe in akuma or magic before all of this happened, right? But look at us now." He bumped her shoulder with his own and gave her a toothy smile.

"Well, no. But that doesn't mean–" she started, gearing up to argue...until she realized he was watching her a bit too closely. Oh, she _knew_ that dumb look of his. "Nice try, kitty, but I know what you're angling for, and I'm not falling for it." She roughly poked his shoulder. Once for emphasis, twice for righteous vengeance.

"But your passion as you detail all the ways I'm wrong never ceases to captivate me!" She couldn't see his eyebrows under the mask, but she had a good guess what they were doing.

"How about you focus all that captivation on finding the akuma? Unless you're aiming for me to poke your shoulder black and blue?"

"My lady's love taps are always cherished," he professed, both florid and saccharine. 

"Uh _huh_. No more touching you then. Got it," she declared cheekily. And promptly turned her attention back to the skyline.

That settled it, she decided in a messy mishmash of chagrined thrill. Her mouth was on probation until it could be trusted not to throw firecrackers at a petrol-doused cat. Then again, _he_ had been skirting the–mmrgh. 

It wasn't the time or the place. _It wasn't._

(But when was?)

Chat Noir was close enough that she could hear him shallowly inhale, about to speak. But he just paused and eventually let the breath go.

"Critical hit!" he eventually announced and staggered back down onto the surface of the strut they were on. One upturned hand was at his forehead, the other clutching his chest. "I'm done for. There's no coming back from this. Tell them to build a statue–uh." Chat's eyes popped open. "Er, no, no. Statues, ha, could there be anything more passé? Not at all right for me. Just...just– My story! Just tell my story. Of the world-renown and very, _very_ celebrated Chat Noir." 

"If you're world-renown, why do you need your story told?" she retorted, still looking forward and not finding it hard to give him a pass when he'd so readily given her one.

"Who argues with someone's last wishes?"

"What happened to having nine lives?" she shot back.

"But what use are they when there's no more victory fist bumps? No more loving forehead flicks... No more belly rubs for a job well done–"

Her neck cracked with how fast she turned to look at him. " _Belly rubs_ –" 

"Poor Chat Noir," he plowed over her objection. "Doomed to a life of hugging himself out of desperation for human contact."

His tone was so teeth-gnashingly maudlin that she didn't even try to resist the urge to poke him in the stomach. 

The resulting wheeze was just exaggerated enough to make her smile. "Be careful what you wish for," she warned pleasantly, swept along by his theatrics despite the thickness still lurking in her throat. "It might turn out you're wishing on a _monkey's_ paw."

It only took as long for Chat Noir to process her pun before his overblown bellyaching stopped. In one fluid movement, he popped back up into a sitting position to stare at her. He wasn't exactly smiling, but had this peculiar, warm look on his face that made her feel self-conscious. "I was right."

She frowned. "About what?"

"For as long as I've known you," he started carefully, his expression a little helpless and a lot...oh. Oh no. "You've always been the best medicine for a bad day." 

_Critical hit_ , she thought ruefully, staring at that clear as day expression and realizing just how much trouble she was in. "It wasn't that good of a quip." 

"It's not that–well, no, it _was_ , but that's not what I meant." He fidgeted in place, tapping a rhythmless, soundless beat on his leg, but still he didn't look away from her. 

"I–how can I explain this in a way that isn't...?" he fumbled for words, a rarity, maybe an omen, before he let out a drawn out _ah ha_. "Your day. How was it?"

Ladybug, even while thrown by the casual shift, didn't take long to think of an answer both vague and true. "Overall? I'd count it as a plus. There were some things I wish had happened differently, but I think it was an okay day for what it was. Though there's still time for that to change," she said wryly, glancing at the late afternoon sky and trying not to give herself a headache overanalyzing what Chat was aiming for. "And yours?"

"It was _awful_ ," he burst out, almost a beat before her, like a door finally buckling under the pressure of a flood. 

As if he was taken aback by his own heated response, he grimaced and looked down, tangling a hand in his hair. "My apawlogies," he joked weakly. "Didn't mean to sound like that. It's just that– Okay, okay, I, um, have this...this promise I made. Ha, well. Maybe more of a compromise? No, a deal, that's it." He talked quickly, almost nervously, like he was waiting for her to cut him off. 

Which is what a responsible Ladybug should do.

If this Ladybug's mouth ever wanted to open.

"It's been hard keeping it, almost punishing, especially with–" A harried sigh severed that thought, but the rest of it was clear when his eyes skittered away from her. "I was so sure I knew what I was doing. That this was the way to go to...to not disappoint anyone. And that it would be worth it in the end. But today... " 

Chat Noir rubbed his neck, looking out at the sprawling view before them. "I've been wondering if I haven't been fooling myself for a while. A long while. Longer than I should admit, honestly." He didn't so much as laugh as give a small deprecating huff. "It should be pretty clear, right? When you start asking _why_ you're voluntarily putting yourself through...through what feels like a prison sentence for reasons you don't know anymore."

He made a face. "No, that doesn't feel–it feels off, saying it like that. I do know the reasons. I still _want_ those reasons. The cost of those reasons is also very possibly equal to a ransom that I _shouldn't even be paying to my own_ –" Too worked up for words, or maybe knowing better than to continue, Chat looked up and made a long drawn out ‘auugh' that scattered a few nearby birds. 

It was odd, seeing Chat Noir like this – off-kilter and serious and upset, not trying to pepper every other sentence with a clever remark.

He really was having a hard time of things, wasn't he?

"Knowing you, you'll probably be offended that I ask, but if being out here is making things harder for you, Chat Noir..."

He snorted. "You're right, I _am_ offended. That's not even up for question. Non-negotiable. But if that's what you got out of all that, then I guess I didn't..." He stopped and tilted his head in thought. "Huh. I haven't really explained why I brought this up anyway. Too focused on complaining." He shot her a sheepish smile.

"Uh-uh." She shook her finger at him. "Complaining would be you going on about getting the wrong dressing on your salad." 

Chat gasped. "How did you know the rest of my story?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Weep about balsamic on your own time."

"But who will I tell all my vinairegrets to–"

She playfully shoved him in the shoulder with her own. _"_ _Chaton."_

"I know, I know. And...thanks. For listening to me even though that was probably more revealing than you're comfortable with." He lowered his eyes and his face made a complicated series of expressions. "Actually, it...might be better to leave things there?" he offered, haltingly.

It wasn't out of place. This was creeping into multiple dangerous territories.

But even if she was his partner first, she'd like to think after everything she was still his friend too.

 _Just_ a friend. Even if–

"Go on."

"So..." He laughed breathily, giving her one last opportunity to back out. "I was...actually pretty close by when the akuma attacked – if we're still sure it is an akuma," he added, getting some of his lighthearted tone back. "Wasn't feeling too great at the time considering my first attempt to wrangle my priorities back into order ended, ha, poetically." He shook his head, a resigned sort of upset.

"But there I was. Just a couple streets over from where everyone was evacuating, knee-deep in wondering if I hadn't sabotaged what I really wanted by accepting an...an unfair arrangement that makes me _miserable_." Lips scrunched up into an unhappy line, he breathed in deep. "It's probably terrible, that I perked up when I heard the chaos. But it was something to distract me from the mess I made, something _good_ I could do. And I was ready to throw myself into things, to work out this frustration I can't seem to shed as _me_ but I can forget about for a little bit as Chat Noir. But then..."

He looked up, those green, green eyes of his peeking through tufts of blond. "There you were. Already there. You...you're always there."

"That's...not strictly true," she broke in, partly trying to relieve the tension she could feel building up, and partly because, no, there had been tight spots when Chat Noir had been on his own because she hadn't been able to extract herself from her responsibilities as Marinette in a timely manner. And, to be fair, she'd been on her own sometimes too. 

Chat snorted. "What, so you weren't really there? Has my imagination gotten so good it's become hallucinatory?" he asked, fighting pedantry with pedantry.

"You know what I meant."

"Mm," was all he would say to that. "Nevertheless, the point of my sad, pathetic, and slightly demoralizing story that, ah, probably crossed a few lines in the process, sorry about that, consider it my quota for the month–I...uh. Where...?" Tripped up by his own chattering, Chat Noir regarded the strut he was sitting on with a small frown before he grasped the thread of his sentence again. "Right, yes, the point. Ah..."

His claws tapped a discordant beat on the metal below, stalling or maybe a nervous tic. "The point is..." he began after more hesitation, face showing some of the conflict that had to be knocking around in his head. Eventually, it resolved with the juddering of an aborted movement that was eventually realized with– 

A warm hand squeezing her shoulder. An unbearably sincere expression she had trouble looking at.

She knew exactly what it meant.

"Once I saw you..." his voice hitched, "it wasn't such a bad day after all."

And there it was.

Her breath caught, her chest ached, and for one moment she wanted so, so much.

It stunned her how such deeply rooted duty and worry were so quickly replaced by an impulsive recklessness to ignore the sheer stupidity, irresponsibility, and hypocrisy that came with _Why not?_

Hawk Moth was why not. And Marinette. And Chat Blanc. And–

She wasn't anywhere close to being prepared for this. To decide once and for all if the responsibilities and fears she had were the price of having such amazing, inexplicable, _miraculous_ powers or if they were convenient excuses not to change the status quo she'd only recently started questioning.

She had just accepted it as an absolute. But why _couldn't_ Ladybug and Chat Noir know each other's identities? Because mixing feelings and the business of saving Paris was a bad idea? But wasn't that already a lost battle once she started asking her friends to fight alongside her? Was it an explicit rule that would immediately snatch their kwamis and powers from them? Or was it just an unwritten safeguard? Like when she wasn't supposed to go to Master Fu's? Did things change now that she was the guardian?

Tikki might even answer her if she asked. But first she'd have to admit to herself what she wanted, wouldn't she? 

Unable to just sit there dumbly any longer, she lurched forward like some broken marionette and tugged a stray lock of hair. "You're starting to look like an alley cat," she mumbled, tongue and lips finally coming unstuck to blatantly change the topic even while she selfishly indulged the impulse to be close. 

Guilt seeped back in slowly, even though he knew, he should have _known_ –

No. Now she really was being unfair.

Chat Noir's face was muddled, but he remained unmoving. She knew he wouldn't. He'd never. Not without her say. "I...it... Ah," he fumbled for words, looking away, "Wasn't really my choice." She watched as Chat smacked his lips and licked the dryness away with his tongue. "If it gets any longer I'll need to break out the hairbands again..." 

"Four ears, two tails," she sighed, relieved and yet...finding it hard to let go and back away. "Maybe you'll stop tugging at it then."

"Have I?" he asked to the right of her, still not meeting her eyes. Not good. So not good. "Been looking?" he asked, tone mild. Before Ladybug could pick apart just how much damage control was needed after her thoughtless attempt at levity, Chat's back went rigid.

"Chat Noir?" was all she got out before he leaned forward, closing the distance between them. 

She stiffened, taken back by the sudden movement. "What...?" 

She was paralyzed. Which swiftly turned into confusion as he leaned far over her shoulder, bodies close but his attention clearly caught by something else.

"Is that...?"

"What?" she asked, half-afraid he was making her look to dash away or to– She turned anyway at his urgency and answered both of her questions. 

It wasn't far enough that she had to strain her eyes, but it still took a second to recognize the plume of green smoke for what it was.

The relief was dizzying.

"Finally!" She jumped up to her feet, yo-yo already whirling in anticipation. "Still think it's not an akuma?"

"I never said it _wasn't–_ " But she had already jumped off the Eiffel Tower, yo-yo poised to be cast to the next anchor point. _Later_ , she told herself. _Later._

She could at least spare a few moments at the end of all of this to apologize. And maybe...share a little bit of her thoughts.

Maybe it was time to talk to Tikki.

As she traveled, she kept her eyes pinned on the column of smoke emerging from somewhere on the outskirts of the city center. It was a good thing Chat Noir had noticed it when he did, because the smoke started to dissipate as she raced towards it. She pushed herself harder, not willing to miss it.

By the time she finally arrived at the source, the mysterious green smoke was gone entirely. But even if it wasn't, Ladybug realized with dawning horror, it wouldn't have been hard to figure out this was the location.

On any other day, the most eye-catching feature would be the building itself. While the granite slab out front identified it as _Jouvet Clinique & Laboratoire_, it looked more like a modern glass fortress out of a geometrist's fantasy or a mediocre architect's nightmare. Today, however, Ladybug didn't spare the building more than a passing glance.

Not once she saw the bodies.

She didn't waste any time. She jumped down to the ground and ran to the nearest person – a security guard flat on his back. Briefly grateful she wouldn't have to move his head, she put two fingers on the pulse point on his neck. She held her breath for a long, tense moment...before finally exhaling when she felt a strong, steady beat. "They're okay."

She looked up to find Chat Noir by a woman in athletic wear, also slumped in relief. "I think I had a minor heart attack."

"You're not alone," she muttered, staring at the security guard who, she finally noticed, was softly snoring.

As long as Marinette had been Ladybug, no one akumatized had outright ended the lives of the people around them. It had never been an explicit fear with the old Hawk Moth. He'd been obsessed with getting their Miraculouses and the people he chose were often caught up between his demands and their elaborate revenge plots or twisted fantasies. So most of her worries had been dedicated to keeping her earrings on and her face covered.

But this Hawk Moth was still so unknown. They still wanted the Miraculouses, yes, but she could tell they were more discerning at picking their victims. They took their time to find someone brimming over with negativity rather than pick off collège and lycée students, babies, Monsieur Rat (né Pigeon) for what Chat Noir swore was close to 200 times, or trail after the butterfly storm that was Chloe Bourgeois. And the patience paid off. Maybe it was time softening her memories, but Ladybug didn't remember being this off-balance with the old Hawk Moth who in the end had– 

The details were still so fuzzy. A wish had been made, but then taken back? Tikki hadn't been able to tell her much. Only that they wouldn't remember something that had never happened. 

And yet, both Hawk Moth and Mayura had just...disappeared. And with them gone, Ladybug and Chat Noir hadn't been needed.

Not until a little butterfly had possessed Gabriel Agreste two years later.

"Up we go, Dr. Yılmaz."

A voice not too far away scattered her thoughts and pulled her mind back into the present. 

Sharing a look with Chat Noir, Ladybug slowly got up and...was that splashing? She looked around and–there, a fountain. And someone was on the other side of it.

Carefully, they approached the large fountain and skirted around it until they could see a woman with a short, severe bob in purple scrubs and crisp white lab coat. Both sets of sleeves were pushed up to her elbows as she tried to fish another woman out of the water.

"I guess the doctor is in?" Chat was loud enough that the woman spun around and dropped the other woman back into the fountain.

"And out," he added, eyeing the half-submerged doctor.

She took one look at them and let out a sigh. "I should have expected this. Really, what other explanation could it have been?" Without waiting for their reply, she turned back around and bent down to grab one of her colleague's arms. "Mind helping me with her?"

"My pleasure." Chat Noir stepped forward before Ladybug could and took the other arm. With his help, the unconscious doctor was easily pulled out and set down against the lip of the fountain.

Ladybug took the time to survey the area more fully. From a second look, it seemed that the spread of unconscious people was only within the building's premises. Outside of this body-lined boundary, the police had finally arrived and were starting to cordon off the area and attend to the people closest to them. "We checked, but these people, they're just–?"

"Somewhere between sleeping and unconscious. Their reaction to stimuli is sluggish but still there, and even one or two I checked opened their eyes before slipping back into–whatever this _is_. But now that you're here..." The woman fixed them with a pointed look. "I suppose trying to determine the cause would just be an exercise in frustration." She wiped her damp hands on her scrubs and crouched down to her companion, checking her vitals.

"Magic," she breathed out with a resigned smile. "Somewhat outside my area of expertise, I admit."

Once she had finished her examination, she stood back up and gestured to the building. "There's more inside if you'd like to take a look." Even from here, Ladybug could see the slumped over forms littering the lobby through the glass. "Though I hope you understand I'd rather not go back in there."

"Sorry, but how are you the only one not snoozing away?" Chat asked, eyeing her curiously.

Unruffled by the bluntness, she sat down on the wide lip of the fountain. "No need to be sorry, it's a perfectly reasonable question." She tore her gaze from the building to look back at them. "And perhaps anyone else who was in a lab or room with a separate air filtration system is unaffected as well? Though I didn't see anyone when I– Ah. Getting ahead of myself again."

Busying herself with pulling her sleeves down, she spoke slowly, methodically. "The only explanation is I was in a quarantined area. Nothing to worry about, mind you. I was only there because somehow _I_ got put in charge of re-demonstrating quarantine procedures for the interns as if they were fresh-faced medical students too nervous to use a syringe. When none of the interns arrived, I assumed the buffoon whose job this was supposed to be didn't share his plan with everyone or...or maybe..." she trailed off, looking troubled for a moment before powering on. 

"I went looking for them. And I did. All of them were passed out in the middle of an elevator. After that, I went for help and instead found everyone slumbering away as if we were in some silly fairy tale."

"Have you heard or seen anything else?" Ladybug asked, hoping that they weren't just a little too late again.

"Are you asking me if I saw the witch or wizard who did this?" she asked with a wry turn of the lips.

"We heard she's more along the lines of a mad scientist," Chat Noir corrected, twirling his baton.

The doctor stopped fussing with her sleeves. "That...would make sense why she's here then. But I haven't heard or seen anything since I came up to the main floor. But..." She held her chin in thought. "We do have basement levels. If she's still around, she might be there. That or she's–" 

Even as the ambient sounds of the city persisted, the explosive slam of a door somewhere inside the lobby could be heard in the subdued atmosphere.

All three heads whipped around to stare at the building. Inside, someone took off at a furious pace across the room – only slowing down to hurdle over or dodge the various people strewn all over. The person was remarkably agile, not tripping or stumbling even once. Within a matter of seconds, this person – a man with a ripped lab coat and charred badge – was at the front doors, almost barreling through them during the second delay it took for them to open automatically.

"Dr. Jouvet!"

The man, partly bent over while taking greedy gulps of air, took one last big breath and raced over to them. "Chiya, what are you doing?! Run! Just don't stand there, she's coming!" He looked wildly back at the building and then all around. "It's not– _I'm_ not–" With an unintelligible noise, he pushed through them and took off again.

"Jouvet!"

"I'm sorry, I-I have to–" Out of nowhere, a black fluid splashed the ground in front of him, only a few centimeters off the mark. Dr. Jouvet's sudden stop sent him falling backwards, landing roughly on his backside. He stared at the burbling tar-black solution, almost vibrating with panic.

"Have to _what?_ " a voice snapped out, as stinging as a whip.

There, standing between the glass sliding doors that weren't so much open as they were melted, Ladybug finally got her first look at the person who had been evading them long enough. 

Without hesitation, she took the opportunity to absorb her appearance and search for items where a little butterfly could be hiding–

_White coat covered with a patchwork of multi-colored splotches that seemed to creep up and overtake her skin... Giant yellow-tinted goggles over her eyes... Oversized stethoscope around her neck... Glass beaker impossibly balanced on one finger... Wild radioactive green hair that was fanned out and stood on edge, unbeholden to gravity..._

As it turned out a scientist-doctor hybrid was an apt description, thank you, _monsieur_.

The woman, now clutching her beaker properly, stepped forward, eyes completely trained on the cowering doctor ahead.

"That was a mean trick you pulled on me, Jouvet. Don't think I'll be fooled twice. Or would that be three times?"

At her voice, Dr. Jouvet hunched into himself as much as he could without turning into a ball.

"Mercier..."

"It's Docteur Chimique now," she asserted, before having a moment of confusion that the voice wasn't coming from the recoiling form in front of her. 

Reluctantly turning away from her prey, she turned to their group of three. Docteur Chimique only deigned to give her and Chat Noir a brief, dismissive look – a rarity – before she set her eyes on their companion. For a few volatile moments, everything went still. 

"Dr. Chiya. You..." The simmering fury she had been radiating ignited. "How could I forget about you? You said _nothing_." She stalked forward, and Ladybug gently tugged the motionless Dr. Chiya to take a few steps back. 

"After everything you said about what it meant to be a doctor – what it meant to wear a white coat – you just let Dr. Jouvet get me dismissed! _For saving a life._ For an intern seeing what he couldn't and doing what he wouldn't! After everything we–you, you just let me _hang_." 

"That's not true! I was planning–"

"Too little, too late! Have a taste of your own medicine!" A purple substance suddenly appeared in the beaker in her hand and she hurled the liquid at Dr. Chiya.

It hadn't been hard to guess where this was going as soon as Docteur Chimique set her sights on the other doctor. Ready and waiting for her cue, Ladybug grabbed Dr. Chiya by her middle at the perfect moment and jumped out of the way. 

"That's no way to treat a colleague," she said, setting Dr. Chiya down and standing in front of her.

"Ladybug," she snarled. "Talking as if you know anything."

"Au contraire. Your little speech told us quite a lot." While she had went one way, Chat Noir had gone the other and had taken position by where Dr. Jouvet– 

Had been?

"And Chat Noir. I know someone who is pleased to see you both. I'd share the sentiment but first I– First I..." Docteur Chimique looked from Dr. Chiya to the place where Dr. Jouvet no longer was.

"You... No! You planned this. All of you! Always letting him do whatever because of his family!" Body trembling with rage, one of her hands clenched while the other swirled her beaker that was quickly filling with an off-white liquid. "Everyone protecting that sniveling weasel of a doctor needs to be treated!" 

With a quick look at Chat Noir, who nodded, Ladybug took a hold of Dr. Chiya once more. At the same time she took off, Chat sideswiped Docteur Chimique with his baton, hitting her arm just as she threw the liquid and destroying her aim.

"Ah, ah, ah. Hold it right there," Ladybug heard him say as she rushed away. "Could you take a look at this weird patch of moles I have?"

Ladybug hurried as far as the police barricade before stopping. It was distant enough that Dr. Chiya had a decent shot at making a break for it, but close enough that Ladybug could cut in on Chat Noir's fight if he needed the help.

"Dr. Chiya, was it? We don't have a lot of time. If you run now, the police and I can cover you and keep her from following after... Um, Doctor? Dr. Chiya?" 

She waved a hand in front of the doctor who was staring at Chimique and Chat's tangle with her arms crossed, looking upset. "She's right, you know. I didn't say anything until it was too late."

Ladybug looked anxiously between Dr. Chiya and Chat Noir. She wanted to rejoin the fight as soon as possible, even if he was holding his own for the moment. But it didn't look like Dr. Chiya was in any rush to leave. "What happened?"

"Apparently Mercier, she...grappled Dr. Jouvet when he didn't listen to her protests about a dosage amount. And in the end...he was wrong, she was right. Yes, she should have handled the situation better, but _he_ should have done better to begin with." Dr. Chiya took a step toward the fight, but Ladybug moved in the way.

"I really thought Jouvet wasn't callous enough to use her as a scapegoat to cover himself. But obviously I was mistaken," she muttered darkly, keeping her eyes trained on Chimique.

"Dr. Chiya..."

> "So, what was this life saving feat of yours anyway?" Chat Noir asked, back flipping and dancing away from another shower of liquid and then a cloud of gas.
> 
> "As if you would understand."
> 
> "Try me." He gave what he was sure was his most charming grin. More teeth meant more charm, right?
> 
> Whether it was his smile magic or the opportunity to vent all the wrongdoings done to her, he didn't care, because, bravo to him, it was enough to make Chimique pause and stop trying to make a break for Dr. Chiya.
> 
> Docteur Chimique eyed Chat Noir warily, still swishing the contents in her beaker, but eventually– "Our clinic is working in tandem with a large pharmaceutical company for the first phase of patient trials of a new prevention drug for Kurushi's Disease. Dr. Jouvet," she spat out the name, "wanted the _honor_ of attending to the first patient and I was shadowing him that day." 
> 
> She tightly grasped the beaker in both hands while she stared down at the murky liquid inside, words filled with venom. "He got the dosage wrong. He was about to give a woman kidney failure with a 1000-fold overdose because he thought the injection was in milligrams and not micrograms. He didn't want to listen to me, so sure of himself. So, I did what I had to do." She looked back up at Chat Noir, eyes flashing and tone challenging.
> 
> "Hm," he crossed his arms, "Hmm," closed his eyes, "Hrmmm..." and held his thinking pose. Briefly, he flicked one eye open towards Ladybug and the other doctor, and then flicked it back to Docteur Chimique. 
> 
> Guess it was time for him to show how well-versed he was in the fine art of dist- _cat-_ ion.
> 
> Was that reaching? It felt like reaching. 
> 
> "You know what I think?" he asked, slowly shifting into a fighting stance, baton ready and extended.
> 
> "Physician, heal thyself."
> 
> Ah well, he could try it out on Ladybug later.

"Wait, can I...can't I do something, anything? I know this is mad, and completely illogical with what I know about all this whole..." she gestured wildly in the air, "magical akuma business. But it feels like I'm part of the reason she's like this."

"I understand, I really do. But your–student? Intern? Or, maybe, maybe your friend?"

> Docteur Chimique didn't move. She stood there, hunched over her beaker, face obscured by the angle and her hair. Then, slowly her shoulders and upper body began to shudder.
> 
> At first, he mistook it for run-of-the-mill incandescent akuma fury he was an expert at inciting. Until she threw her head back and laughed gaily – a wide grin stretched across her face.
> 
> "That's it, tomcat. You want a medical consultation so badly? Let's have one."

Dr. Chiya's laugh wasn't a happy one. "She's something like that, yes."

> "That being said, you're a little out of my purview." The pace of their fight was faster now that he finally had all of her attention. 
> 
> It was getting harder and harder to dodge all the pools of liquid on the ground and stay in roughly the same area. Maybe he could draw her into following him into another place, but would she take the bait or go after Dr. Chiya when she got the chance?
> 
> "But lucky for you, I have a cat myself." Ohh, this should be good. Chat Noir loved a good cat tale. "Clingiest little thing. Follows me everywhere. Sometimes gets in my way at the most inconvenient of times. Sound familiar?" Chimique narrated amiably, as if she wasn't a possessed almost-doctor comparing him to her pet and trying to splash him with whatever came out of her beaker next. Which seemed to be a silvery gelatinous substance now. 
> 
> Hmm, worrying. But still not a problem if he didn't touch the goopy puddles they left behind.
> 
> "Except every so often, he'll throw himself against the front door and yowl and yowl until I let him outside."

"Your friend's negative emotions have been ratcheted up to a hundred, and whatever you say to her will be taken in the worst possible light," she tried to explain to the doctor. "You'll have a chance to make this right between you two later, I promise. Just please be safe for now."

Glancing back to the fight worriedly, Ladybug pleaded, "Please."

> "And then he disappears for a few days. I worry about him, of course, but I won't lie and say the break isn't nice. And he always comes back in the end – as relaxed and smug as a cat can be. Everybody wins."
> 
> Well then. That comparison took a worrisome turn. Is that what the silver stuff was...?
> 
> "I can see your malady, Chat Noir. Everyone can. And I think it's time you took some medical leave."
> 
> Then Chimique took aim and it... It wasn't at him?

Dr. Chiya watched her for what felt like an age, before sighing and nodding. "Okay, I will. You know better than me about these matters anyway. Just please...do what you can for Giselle. She's a good person and I know she'll be an even better doctor." With one last long look, she darted off in the direction of the police. 

Finally finished, Ladybug turned back to the fight–

"Waugh!"

–just in time to hear Chat Noir's yell.

With her heart pounding in her chest, she raced back to the clinic. Even from a distance, she could see him on his knees in the middle of a silver pool of liquid, struggling to use his baton to push himself up. But his progress was sluggish, the sticky substance keeping him in place. How he got into that position was no wonder once she got closer. Right behind him was the doctor he and Dr. Chiya had dragged out of the fountain earlier.

Docteur Chimique strolled over to Chat Noir's trapped form, stopping right before him. "Now take this and _don't_ call me in the morning."

And there it was – the humming in her chest whenever it was just the right time. She didn't hesitate to listen to it. 

"Lucky Charm!" Ladybug threw her yo-yo upwards, always curious to see what it was even in the most desperate of times.

Out came a... _A breathing mask_. She didn't even have to think about how to use this. Not after last week. "Chat Noir!" she yelled, throwing the mask to him. He only had a split second to puzzle out what he had caught and shove it over his head before Docteur Chimique blew the blue gas emerging from the beaker balanced on her palm and–

There! The perfect opportunity. 

Taking the chance, Ladybug flung her yo-yo and wound it around the beaker. With one smooth motion, she retracted it down towards the ground, smashing it at her feet and–

Light blue gas exploded in her face. 

It was the shock rather than the blast that sent her propelling backwards onto the ground. For a moment she couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't touch her face because it felt like specks were in her eyes, mouth, nose, ears, _throat..._

"Ladybug!" she heard Chat Noir's desperate shout from far away, while up close– 

"Well, well. How exciting that you volunteered yourself for this particular clinical trial."

Docteur Chimique was in front of her. 

"It's not what I had on the docket for you, but I can't argue with the results." She felt latex-covered fingers on her earrings and reared back, trying to get away. The movement jolted her into a coughing fit, her straining lungs not able to take the lack of air anymore.

"After all, a little butterfly told me she's just the symptom while you're the _disease_ ," Docteur Chimique's voice hummed in satisfaction, closing the distance between them again. 

"Back off!"

Even blinded, she could sense the heavy _thud_ of impact that happened in front of her and she took the chance to scoot back more.

Her progress was stopped when the tip of her fingers of her right hand touched something wet and went instantly numb. She froze, afraid to move.

A hand touched her shoulder and she lashed out reflexively.

"It's me!" Chat Noir's voice assured her. "I'm going to get us out of here, okay?" Without waiting for her answer, he scooped her up and took off running. Seconds after, she heard a yell and a splash nearby, but Chat didn't slow down.

"Hold on!" She heard him yell, as she went from being carried in his arms to being slung over one shoulder.

During their frantic escape, she heard his baton extending and retracting as he ran, leapt, and soared – sometimes making jarring turns and sudden stops that made her cough more.

She wished they had had the time for her to move to his back. Like this – Chat Noir's arm tightly wrapped around the back of her legs, her upper torso dangling in the breeze – she had nothing to hold onto, despite what he said, and could only trust him not to drop her.

She did, one hundred percent. But it stung. Being like this.

Based on the beeping of her Miraculous, or the lack thereof, it was less than a minute before Chat Noir made his final leap and stopped for good. Wherever they were, it was shaded. She heard the sound of birds rapidly flying away, along with the rustling of–

"Are we in a tree?" she rasped out.

"Good way to lose someone, I find," he answered softly.

Chat Noir carefully sat down on what must have been a strong enough bough to hold both of their weight and slowly slid her down from his shoulder next to him, leaning her against the trunk of the tree.

She kept one arm around his shoulders, disorientated and still not quite willing to open her eyes. Even if her face was starting to feel more sunburnt than on fire, the sensation of foreign particles lingered in her eyes – though those too felt like they were fading away.

Her miraculous beeped. Four minutes left.

"Ladybug, I... Are you okay? What do you need me to do?" Chat Noir asked in that same carefully calm tone.

"First–did....the akuma?" She coughed and sneezed almost simultaneously. _Ow_.

She was close enough to feel his head shake and–was that water that hit her face? "Nothing came out." 

The news wasn't surprising considering Docteur Chimique wasn't replaced by a bewildered intern after the beaker broke, but she still hung her head, feeling deflated. "Wouldn't have been able to catch it right away anyway." And based on the splashing sound that followed their escape, she hadn't even taken out Chimique's means for a weapon. All that for nothing.

She only allowed herself a moment of utter disappointment, before forcing herself to shake it off. Action now, dwelling on past mistakes later. 

But when she moved to clutch Chat Noir's shoulder to readjust herself, there was something strange with her grip and she found herself abruptly lurching sideways.

"Careful!" Chat shouted as he steadied her.

Confused, Ladybug flexed her right hand and...and there was no feeling in her fingers. There was nothing but a prickly boundary of numbness and sensation right where they met her palm.

She held in her frustrated groan, but really? Through her suit?

Okay, _okay_. Just another thing to power through. It wasn't any worse than getting an arm pixelated or petrified. 

With that in mind, Ladybug turned her head to where Chat Noir's face should be. There was no time to mope or panic or examine the perplexing relationship between logic and magic – not when she had less than four minutes and still couldn't see.

"Is there anything on my face?"

She silently waited out his small, surprised jerk and subsequent scrutinizing pause. "Not...that I can see?"

Wishing she had just a bit more time to adjust and cool down, she cautiously cracked her eyes open. Hazy blond and black with dabs of green swam in her vision before she shut her eyes against the light. Strapped for time, but unwilling to rub her eyes, Ladybug made herself yawn and blinked rapidly to clear away the blurriness with the forced tears that filled her eyes.

She blinked a few more times to bring his face into focus–

And found Chat Noir looking like a distraught, half-drowned stray. Up a tree.

"Why are you wet?" She stared at him and squinted to bring his damp form into sharper focus – slowly testing her eyes. They felt sore and swollen, like they did when her allergies flared up or she cried too hard or too long. But at least they didn't seem to hurt anymore. Nothing did really. All that was left was a warmth on her face a few degrees below discomfort and some sensationless fingers.

"I jumped into the fountain," he said distractedly, eyes rapidly examining her face.

Why would he–? Wait, right before. That silvery substance he was stuck in. 

"At least one of us was able to think quickly," she muttered, taking a better look at her right hand now that she could see. Tentatively, she tightened and loosened it. The numbness in her fingers wasn't too bad. She could still use them at any rate.

"...You should have kept the mask for yourself," she heard Chat say quietly. When she glanced up, she found him staring at her hand as well, expression terrible when he looked up and their eyes met.

She carefully pinched his cheek. "Don't make that face. Despite what I said earlier, I wasn't trying to prove a point." Not consciously anyway. If the akuma had been in the beaker it would have been a perfect plan.

But she should have known it was too straightforward for her. She and her Lucky Charm always had to make things complicated.

Feeling a bit lightheaded, she sighed and let herself rest her head on his shoulder. The material of his suit felt cool on her face. No wonder. While he had gone for a swim, she had gotten caught in a magical-chemical reaction. "I thought it was the beaker. It was a bad call."

Her miraculous beeped.

His face leaned in close, looking at her earrings. "Three minutes left." 

"That's my cue–I need to go," she moved to jump down but her limbs weren't as cooperative as she expected them to be. They were slow to react, feeling as if they were moving through warm molasses, and she nearly fell out of the tree.

Chat Noir made a distressed yelp as he reeled her back in. He gripped her tight, tucking her against him. They stayed like that for a long moment. 

The almost painful thumping in her chest took time to settle. Long enough for dread to snake up her spine and squeeze her heart.

She had forgotten.

The gas – it wasn't just an explosion. Just like her hand, there was something behind it and it was finally rearing its head.

Maybe it was an anesthetic? The explanation fit for her fingers, but that had been instantaneous. Or maybe it was a sedative? Was poison or a paralytic too far for an akumatized would-be doctor? The possibilities made her head hurt.

"Ladybug. Please let me help you," Chat Noir asked into the curve of her shoulder.

That...wasn't helping the tightness in her chest. He was just too close for her to have enough space to catch her breath and even out her pulse. She needed to think. She needed to get away. She needed to calm down. She needed to do something before it was too late. And wasn't that funny? _Now_ she wanted to do something when she could practically hear the clock tick...tick...

_Boom._

A second explosion detonated. It was quieter, not a full tangible thing, but some disquieting combination of physiological and metaphorical that was no less devastating.

Everything stopped, refocused, and sharpened.

It was too much. The breeze lightly ruffling her hair – the arms around her waist, keeping her balanced and close – the tight, almost suffocating fit of her suit – claws lightly brushing against her back every time she shifted or inhaled – the breath on the exposed area of her neck–

_She was sitting in his lap._

And things were going on in _her_ lap that _were not on the job behavior, Marinette Dupain-Cheng._

Oh no. No, no, no.

She pushed Chat Noir far enough to dislodge the hug, but not enough to send herself toppling out of the tree this time. She hunched forward, clutching his shoulders with both hands, overwhelmed as she started to fit the puzzle pieces together.

"Ladybug?!"

What Chimique said to her, what she caught at the tail end of Chat Noir's fight, what was happening to her... What Chimique could _do–_

It wasn't a definitive explanation and maybe she was missing something in her panic. But she suddenly had a very good idea just exactly how Docteur Chimique intended to knock Chat Noir out of the fight.

It was hard, keeping her breathing even so she didn't hyperventilate and set Chat off even more – especially when everything of hers suddenly felt languid and restless at the same time. But if she didn't act calm, shaking him would be harder than it already would be.

As nimble as a gazelle up a tree, she climbed off him and hopped to another branch. Had he felt how hot she had gotten? The heat of her on his _thighs–_

No. Nope. Cease and desist that line of thought _right this instant_.

Keeping him at the edges of her vision, she caught the movement towards her – an extended hand hesitating before being retracted with an uncertain look on his face. "It's the gas, isn't it?" 

She saw the shift from unsure to resolute when she struggled to answer through her embarrassment. "I knew it. Ladybug, you have to–" 

Her miraculous beeped again. Two minutes.

Pulling herself together, Ladybug smacked her cheeks with both of her hands, the sting helping her to concentrate. "I'm okay, I swear. I just need to wash my face and recharge," she told him steadily as she got her yo-yo ready.

Making sure she had a good solid grip on it to prove her words, she practically catapulted herself out of the tree to a nearby roof.

Just slow enough to miss her somewhat clumsy landing, Chat Noir joined her. And with that expression she knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"While I'm gone, keep an eye on Docteur Chimique, but don't engage her unless it's necessary," she instructed, looking in the direction her apartment was. It would take a miracle to get her all the way there. But she...her time had been getting longer. Not always, not for sure. There didn't seem to be rhyme or reason to it, but sometimes she lasted well over five minutes.

One time she hadn't detransformed at all. Not until she said the words.

"Ladybug..."

"As in, someone might become seriously wounded or die necessary." She knew that Chat knew all this. He had been at this just as long as her. But the both of them being compromised was always a worst-case scenario. And wow, did she not want to hand off another Miraculous while she was like this because they both had messed up.

On the bright side, at least no one was stone this time.

"Ladybug!" Chat Noir stepped in front of her, blocking her view with that anxious face of his.

She looked him in the eyes, knowing she couldn't avoid them when she was trying to convince him that everything was okay enough to not require help. Even if staring at him felt like a terrible idea right now.

"Chaton, _I'm okay_. Whatever she did won't be a problem once I come back." 

He bit his lip, looking unsure. "The things she said before..."

No way, they were not going to have this conversation now. Not when she was having trouble not clenching her legs together. If she was lucky, maybe they could avoid it altogether.

Then again, that she was even in this situation to begin with seemed like a good indicator of her luck today.

"I'm fine." She held out her arms and spun on her foot, careful not to stumble. "Not hairy, sleepy, or suffering from chemical burns." Just no feeling in one part of her and too much in other parts.

Chat Noir just frowned.

Ladybug sighed and put her arms down. "How about this, I'll let you know if anything else happens. Deal?" She could reassure him later. She didn't have time. Her apartment was becoming less doable the longer she stayed. At this point she had less than two minutes. And she couldn't pin all her hopes on her fluctuating time limit. 

"You...don't have to leave," Chat haltingly offered. God, if he was braving the ever touchy issue about their real identities, she had underestimated just how concerned he was.

But an ill-timed reminder of the heat that settled in her lower stomach only strengthened her resolve on that matter. "I'm sorry. I can't." Not now. Not like this. This wasn't something Chat Noir should help Ladybug with. 

Not when she hadn't made up her mind yet.

Chat looked conflicted, torn between two different types of worry with no clear winner in sight. But if she waited for him to choose a side, the choice would be made for them both. 

Ladybug made a decision. "Chat Noir, please." She grabbed one of his hands with both of hers and held it tightly.

She could have cut and run, but she honestly didn't know if his concern would prevail over his promise – and that was a double helping of conversations she didn't want to have in this state.

It was unfair of her, maybe even cruel. But her situation was unfair, cruel, and _pressing_.

Her Miraculous beeped again. One minute.

He looked at their joined hands almost sadly and relented. "You promise?" He squeezed back and she had to close her eyes. That simple half-felt pressure shouldn't have felt so gratifying, not with the guilt weighing her down.

"I do." With one last tight squeeze, she made herself let go.

"Okay, okay," Chat Noir breathed out, ruffling his hair. "Keep in touch. And if something happens, something you can't handle by yourself, tell me. _Please_."

"I will," she promised, knowing it was a lie.

With that, she hurtled off the roof and clambered away – using all her strength and speed to get back to her apartment. All the while she whispered, "Tikki, please, _please_ wait. Please, Tikki."

Left behind, a stray cat averted his eyes and kept a promise – never feeling more helpless.

"I prefer it when we work together too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be around three (chunky) chapters long. Smut will be in the next part if that's what you're here for, and tags will adjusted for what's in store.
> 
> Little nervous about this fic, but here's hoping a few people enjoy my long-winded scribblings about how I would make Ladybug and Chat Noir smooch.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, she made it – Tikki's magic lasting just long enough for Ladybug to trip over the railing of her roof patio and Marinette to arrive home in a painful jumble of limbs.

"Didn't...stick the landing," she hissed, carefully prying one painfully angled arm out from under her.

"Oh, Marinette! I'm sorry!" Tikki cried out, floating somewhere near her face.

"It's okay, Tikki," she grunted as she rolled onto her back. She sighed and looked up at her kwami, keenly feeling the places where scrapes were and where bruises would soon be. "That was more than five minutes though, wasn't it?"

"Your powers are evolving." Tikki smiled tiredly. But Marinette could tell she tried her hardest to hold out for her too. 

Her throat clogged with gratitude. "Thank you, Tikki. I don't want to think what would have happened if I had... If I had to– Um." She paused. That was strange. Now that she wasn't busy eating roof, she couldn't... It wasn't...? "Did...did it stop?"

She didn't feel much of anything other than the soreness from her rough landing. 

"Tikki, is it possible–?" Her mind raced, flicking through the different possibilities. Changing back into Marinette could have expelled the blue gas from her system, or at least stymied it until she was Ladybug again.

By that logic, if the gas was gone, then her hand should– 

Her hope flickered, almost guttering out. Earlier, it was on the fringes of her focus, but when she moved her arm from under her, she hadn't...

She clenched her hand with all her might, and banished all her doubts. Just...not in the way she hoped it would be.

There was nothing from her fingers. But what she could feel–

Her nails sank into her palm – the sharp, almost painful pinpricks jolting a sudden tremor out of her. It reverberated through her like a shockwave, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in its wake. Everything became impossibly warm, as if her internal temperature spiked into a fever that left her reeling and gasping. 

Marinette slapped both hands to her face, rolled back onto her front, and tried to melt into the roof. 

Well, that theory had a pathetically short life-span.

"Marinette..." Tikki called tentatively.

The rough texture of the patio floor sent another shuddering wave of feeling she had to clamp her legs against. She groaned in distress. "One moment, Tikki." Marinette slowly pushed herself up, wincing at the scrape on her left hand. But that too was eventually tempered by the heady thrum of her pulse.

Marinette cautiously shuffled towards the two roof hatches, and pried opened the nearest one. Before she made her way down, she eyed the other one uneasily. When she lived with her parents she had used the same system: if she knew Alya was home, she'd go in through the front door. Unless the old stand-by of ‘I was home all along!' would cut it. But today...

It was terrible she felt relieved that Alya was sick. Even more so considering she had meant to check on her, what? Two hours ago? Not that Alya had been expecting her but, still. 

It never got easier, putting Ladybug before friends and family.

Sighing in defeat, Marinette carefully moved to descend the ladder that led into her room. Her legs already felt wobbly, but with a firm grip on the sides of the ladder, she stood and did not falter. Yet, once she took a step down, she jerked to a stop and gave a great groan of exasperation. 

That indeed was her underwear – damp and rubbing against her every time she moved.

She looked to the sky as if to ask ‘Why?' and with a steadying breath, she continued on. With every ladder rung and shift of fabric, she had to pause to make sure she didn't hurt herself in what – depressingly enough – wouldn't be the most mortifying accident for her, but came close.

Once her feet were safely on the ground again, Marinette took a stuttering breath and crouched down at the foot of the ladder, her head buried in her arms. "Nooooo."

"Marinette!" Tikki flew down from the roof to hover in front of her.

"I'm fine. I'm–am I fine, Tikki?" The heat was starting to get to her. Like heatstroke had settled into her skin. Feeling sweat starting to soak into her clothes, she wrangled her purse and jacket off and threw them somewhere behind her.

Tikki looked...surprisingly uneasy. That didn't happen often. "You're not seriously hurt. I would be able to tell if you were."

"Not what I asked!" Oh god, outright evasion was even rarer.

"Marinette...what are you feeling right now?"

The potential embarrassment and ridiculousness of obliquely explaining her clenched legs and soaked undergarments to her kwami was too much. "Like I'll never tease Rose again for her taste in novels when my life is so much worse!" she shouted, only realizing just how loud she was when Tikki fluttered frantically at the wall she and Alya shared. 

"Sorry," she lowered her voice. "I just...I have an idea what's going on. Unless this is the start to something even worse? Something that would land me in a hospital?" She looked to Tikki for an answer.

Tikki shook her head. "I don't think so." 

Marinette exhaled shakily. "How is this happening? Out of everything she could have done how was _this_ even an option to get my, well, Chat Noir's Miraculous? I mean it almost worked, but... _What did they even talk about?_ How did it lead to her trying to douse him with–with some sort of gas bomb aphrodisiac?"

Reality sank in. It really was, wasn't it? 

Her head was back in her arms. "I'm going to take a shower and drown myself."

She felt a little hand...paw...kwami digit touch her hair. "I'm sorry, Marinette."

Marinette closed her eyes, trying to will away the fuzzy, almost humid feeling filling her head. "Is there anything you can do?"

Tikki's voice was gentle. Careful. "Not until you purify the akuma and use your Lucky Charm from earlier to fix things."

"The–" Her head jerked back up. "What? But the other times– The _very first time_ I was Ladybug I didn't use my first Lucky Charm to purify everything. I just made a new one and the other... It disappeared, didn't it?"

Tikki shook her head, apology written all over her face. "This one you need to find. Maybe you didn't use it the right way or for the right thing, but I know it's just the thing to help you."

Seven years, a dozen Miraculouses, and a guardianship under her belt later and she was still learning the ins and outs about her alter ego and kwami. Considering the history of both, she probably shouldn't expect that to stop anytime soon. But, still, what other things that she held as definite were actually subject to change?

Marinette rubbed the bridge of her nose. "We really need to start having weekly meetings about these sorts of things."

"You only need to ask, Marinette."

"I'll put the first meeting in my planner after this," she muttered. She'd find some place to fit it in. But first...

"So. I need the gas mask. I hope, I really, really hope Chat Noir still has it." She couldn't remember if he did when they were up in that tree. It was no wonder that she didn't, but it felt like such a stupid oversight on her part. Even if she hadn't known it was an oversight in the first place.

"Wish I had told him about it before I left." Sometimes not being able to talk to Tikki while she was Ladybug was troublesome.

Whatever she wished though, it wouldn't stop the warm pit in her stomach.

"Okay okay okay. What ifs aren't helping."

She needed to figure out if she could do something about this, and a back-up plan if she couldn't. 

"There's no getting around it. I can't fight like this. Being Ladybug compensates for my strength and agility, but it's not enough to make up for my... _everything_ going haywire." She spread out on the floor, talking more to herself than to Tikki. "So, the logical thing to do is to see if I can snuff this out or at least dampen it." 

Logic. Logic and problem solving were her friends and they would somehow, someway get her out of this.

"I've been able to break the effect of an akuma before." A number of examples came to mind. Though she dwelled on one or two she used to tease Chat Noir about.

"You've proved it's possible. The powers the Butterfly Miraculous gives people...they're not infallible. Sometimes there are ways to get around them without a Miraculous or your Lucky Charm," Tikki said.

"Right." There was little point in skirting around the solutions to this – especially in her own mind. There was still an akuma out there and Chat Noir was waiting on her. That beat out any embarrassment or frustration she felt any day.

She looked at the problem from all sides. She had some options, but not many. 

This being an urgent _akuma_ problem took out both medicine and time. As compelling as it was to take a sedative and try to sleep off whatever was in her system, it just wasn't sensible. Or responsible.

She had a few Miraculouses on hand. Some of them she safeguarded for her friends, others she hadn't found the right owner for. But none of the ones in her possession provided an immediate solution to her situation. 

Realistically, _logically_ , flushing it out physically seemed like her best bet.

Her immediate thought was instantly embarrassing. But if it really was just an aphrodisiac, wouldn't taking relief into her own hands be the simplest solution? On the other hand, maybe giving in ran the risk of heightening her problem rather than alleviating it. Pain seemed to work for a bit, but could be just as debilitating. It might be a short-term solution in a clutch moment though. Physical activity? Maybe, but the mad dash over here didn't seem to do much. Unless, now that she was without enhanced endurance, it would have more of an impact? 

Worth a shot.

Marinette rolled onto her stomach. Testing her balance and strength, she pushed herself up from the ground. Things were a little shaky, but serviceable.

"Okay," she breathed.

"Marinette?"

"Just trying something, Tikki."

Carefully, she lowered herself down to the ground before she pushed herself up again. It was slow going, but the force of the movement lurched through her, creeping down into her hips until her attention was between her thighs. She tried to push through the feeling, forcing herself through another unsteady set of push-ups. 

Her hair escaped from the bun she had put it in earlier that day and stuck to her neck. The sudden lack of tension from the hair tie made her head tingle. Heat and lightheadedness warred in her body, playing with her nerve endings, until she had enough and collapsed onto her stomach.

"Marinette!"

Marinette considered just staying on the floor, only knowing true peace as she was plastered against the cool wood. She could even crawl to a new spot when things got unbearable again.

The throbbing in her underwear told her it wouldn't work.

Face still mashed against the floor, Marinette groaned, "Exercise is a maybe but if I tried it again, I might not survive."

Which left the other approach.

Like she was reading her thoughts, and Marinette really, truly hoped that wasn't the case, Tikki flew down and tucked a wayward piece of hair behind her ear. "Marinette... Whatever you do, you know it might not go away completely until you capture the akuma."

Which was what she was afraid of. But what choice did she have? "I know, Tikki. I know." 

Well, time to make contingencies. She was good at those, right? Plan A, cold shower. Plan B, hands on approach. Plan C, pain train. Plan D, improvise? Ask Bunnyx the most embarrassing favor of her life? Steal the Rabbit Miraculous? Shrivel up and die?

"I just... I think I need to be able to function enough to actually do that. So, could you go find some cookies or macarons while I..." Marinette swallowed, "while I take care of it?"

Part of her was stone cold mortified that she was even having this conversation with Tikki, but the other part was desperately thankful. Who else could she tell without some heavy editing or outright lies? 

Tikki gave her a worried smile and rubbed her head against Marinette's cheek. "Okay, Marinette." 

With a fortifying inhale, Marinette stood and crossed the room, wincing with every step. But as soon as she touched her doorknob, a terrible thought occurred to her. 

"Wait, where's Alya? Please tell me she's sleeping in her room where she should be and not in the bathroom or...what if she left while I was out?" She and Chat Noir were definitely out long enough to garner some media interest. And Alya always hated when some other news outlet had information she didn't. Or she could have seen Chat Noir by himself, no Ladybug in sight and an akuma on the loose, and used the necklace that Marinette had only recently decided to leave in her possession permanently. "If she left the flat to chase after the akuma..." The possibilities made her queasy.

She quickly thought about the safest way to find out and glanced at the wall. "Tikki, I hate to ask, but could you check her room?" She wanted to look herself, but if Alya was awake, escaping question-free would be much harder than it had been with Chat Noir.

From her eyes to her mouth to her head, Alya was sharp all over. And it was only by virtue of Tikki's magic that Marinette hadn't cut herself yet. Since they had moved in together, she had tried her hardest to not put that to the test with any outlandish lies if she could help it.

Tikki didn't seem to have any compunctions about playing scout for her. "Got it!" And she phased through their shared wall, low enough that Alya shouldn't spot her if she was awake.

And then she was alone. Nothing to distract her from the flood of warmth smothering her body.

Tikki, thankfully, was swift to report back. "She's there! I think she's sleeping."

Marinette sagged against the door, immensely relieved. She knew Alya was more than capable of taking care of herself. But the blind spot she sometimes had when it came to her Ladyblog was... Sizeable. Even being Rena Rouge hadn't stemmed her overzealous passion of all things Ladybug. If anything, being partners had only fired her up more.

Marinette sometimes wondered if that would still be the case if she knew who was under the mask. But that was a hypothetical she knew better than to ponder.

"Thanks, Tikki."

She walked to the bathroom without stumbling. A small victory, but she would take them where she could and power through.

Marinette could do this.

She would admit to being inconvenienced, but she wouldn't let herself be incapacitated by this. She'd faced so much worse as both Marinette and Ladybug. Some had been far more mortifying than some private bathroom time.

And what was a little embarrassment? Just Tikki knew. But she knew almost all of Marinette's secrets. And Chat Noir suspected _something_ but she could easily lead him to a different conclusion. 

Yes, she should have been smarter, should have given it more thought to where the akuma might be hiding rather than risk everything on the first opportunity presented to her. 

But she didn't regret she took the hit instead of him this time.

This wouldn't beat her. It wouldn't even come _close_.

She undressed as quickly and carefully as she could, sighing deeply when she finally freed herself of the outfit she had made to show everyone how much her sewing and design skills had improved. She grimaced when she saw the sweat stains and the grime from her rough arrival and chucked them into a corner, resolving to deal with them later.

Naked, and trying very hard not to think about it, she waddled over to the shower, thighs still pressed together. Reflexively, she set the temperature half-way between hot and cold – before remembering herself and turning it back to cold. She shivered. Even while drawn, the shower curtain missed a few stray specks of freezing water and they peppered her skin. 

Her stomach rolled and she felt herself _leak._ She squeezed her legs harder, suddenly worried about dripping on the floor and– Okay, no, time to get in the shower. 

Not giving herself any more time to dilly dally, she quickly slipped in and made a sound that she'd deny to the death was a squeal. She hissed through clenched teeth, trying to move out of the spray so only her legs were in range.

She was violently shivering, but at least it was the kind she was trying to avoid. Yet, it wasn't so warm today that she could get away with having an icy shower without risking a cold. She reached to turn it just a tad bit warmer...and groaned at herself when she left it alone.

First things first. 

Not willing to waste any more time, she put her head under, only letting out a small squeak. She scrubbed her entire face first, trying to get rid of any residue – if there was anything left now that it had done its job. Then she gargled some water. The chalky taste in her mouth was long gone, but it never hurt to be certain. 

It took only a matter of minutes, but eventually, the grounding effect of the temperature faded away. As soon as she stopped feeling miserably cold, so too did the pleasant haze start to seep back in.

It was simultaneously worse and better without clothes. No barrier between water and skin meant she felt _everything_. Her head felt heavy and light at the same time and she wondered if the cold was starting to have the opposite effect now. 

She rested against the shower wall, afraid she might slip. 

The spray of water felt good. Maybe too good against her flustered skin. Now that she wasn't hurrying back home before her time was up, she felt the ache between her legs with a dizzying awareness.

Marinette reached for the knob and turned it just a little warmer. 

She sighed as the buzzing in her head receded just a little longer. Right. Okay. A cold shower was a good balm for those dreams of hers that left her too frazzled for breakfast meetings with clients, but not so much for something more persistent.

So. Plan B, then.

She inhaled shakily, reeling from her day taking such a left turn. But she couldn't help but feel a smidge annoyed that she couldn't just get on with her plan.

Her hands twitched.

Impatient with herself, she grabbed her breasts. She gasped – too much pressure from her partially incapacitated hand and a sensitivity she hadn't expected. But it felt...they felt–

She squeezed them again. 

Her breasts felt tender and...heavy. Which was odd since it never really felt like she ever had much of a growth spurt in the bust area. But she could feel them heave with every exhale. Sometimes she'd like to hold them while she was touching herself, but they had never felt this responsive.

She cupped her breasts more fully, intoxicated with how much she was feeling. How _good_ everything was. 

Then, her fingers brushed her nipples and her whole body lit up. 

She bit down on a whimper, back arching and hips searching for friction. Everything was warm and hazy and not nearly enough.

It was startling. She was never able to get herself off this quickly. Whether it was a too active mind or her self-esteem cataloging her imperfections with every touch, it always took her a while to shudder out her release. But this? She sank into the sensations, marveling at good her own hands felt. How everything felt _amazing_ now that she had given in and let herself enjoy–

Her hands seized up. 

She swallowed, arms dropping numbly to her sides. What did she think this was? She shouldn't... She shouldn't be _indulging_ herself. She needed to see if she could take the edge off, and if it didn't, to move onto something else. 

It was nearly paralyzing, thinking about Chat Noir falling while she was taking her time getting herself off in the shower.

"Okay, _okay_. Marinette, forget that there's an akuma out there terrorizing the city. This is for the sake of saving Paris, no France. Think of France."

She let her head fall back onto the tiled wall and for a few long seconds did nothing. "Who does this while thinking of their country?" she groaned out to the universe. 

Marinette breathed in and out, trying to empty her mind and focus on the feeling of water hitting her skin and the tremors vibrating her whole being.

She trailed her hand down, tracing her stomach with the edges of her nails, and went for it.

She hunched against the wall, parting her legs. Using her non-dominant, still fully functioning hand, she cupped herself. She could feel the blush explode over her face when she felt herself drip onto her fingers.

She parted her folds, finger slipping through the slickness, and stroked just off-center of her clit. The occasional brush against it toed the line of too much and Marinette rocked into her own hand.

She continued for a time, grinding against the heel of her palm, breath a wispy stutter of inhales and exhales. She crumpled against the wall, chest pressed against the tiles and hand scrabbling against them every time she rubbed herself just right. 

But it wasn't enough.

She moaned, frustrated in more ways than one, as her body shook and tighten down on nothing–

There was no relief.

Maybe there wouldn't be any.

Wet hair plastered to her neck and face, Marinette rested her forehead against the wall. She was dizzy and overheated and feeling far too much and she…

She was so _close_. She couldn't go back to Chat Noir like this.

Marinette shivered violently – a live wire suddenly sparking throughout her body, wringing out a choked gasp over the falling water.

Heart fluttering and legs trembling, Marinette forced herself into stillness.

Ah.

There was one more thing she could do. If it really was her mind holding her back and not just a cruel side effect.

Someone she could think of. Had thought of. 

But it was someone whose heart she had already crushed underfoot a couple times over. Who had tried _his_ best to get over her when she made her feelings clear. Who hadn't held it against her. Who seemed to forget he even had feelings for her for a time.

When the first Hawk Moth had disappeared, when they had put away their Miraculouses for those two years, she didn't realize how much she would miss him.

When they had reunited in the face of a new Hawk Moth, both of them had changed. But there were some things...

Since their reunion, he had broached the subject just once. No expectations, no cajoling. Just a quiet, rueful confession. And a promise to keep things as they were. As partners.

She found herself terrifyingly affected. But with their duty and secret identities and this new Hawk Moth and Chat Blanc and Marinette and– And. And.

There were a million and one reasons to keep her eyes from wandering, but Marinette was always beholden to her heart, even as Ladybug.

But it wasn't her heart that needed relief now.

Marinette snorted and gently smacked her head against the wall. Maybe the reason she didn't do this so often was because she had one too many hang-ups about her subject material.

She tried to banish him from her mind, determined to just take care of things and be on her way. She started again, roughly pinching her nipples, stroking herself faster, anything to keep her mind from wandering.

But she couldn't spend forever in the shower.

She had taken long enough that the once cold water was starting to feel heated. She felt every droplet of water drag against her skin, a barely there touch that both seared and frustrated. Her muscles were starting to cramp with how tense she was, and the ache in her stomach was slowly edging towards painful.

Just do it. Get it over with. Feel guilty about it afterwards when the akuma is purified.

Marinette shuddered, quieted her heart, and gave in.

She thought about his mouth. Always talking, joking, smiling, laughing, ready with a quick quip or a cheesy line. Sometimes thoughtful in the way he looked at her when he assumed her attention was elsewhere.

She thought about how close he was in the tree, how easily he encased her thanks to that truly unfair growth spurt of his she never had a chance to catch up to.

Sometimes she just wanted to forget all her reasons that were starting to feel like excuses and stop pretending she didn't want to grab him by the hair, or the belt, or that ridiculous bell and kiss him and take him into a dark corner where no one could see.

She wanted to see if she could make him yowl even when both of them were in their suits. She wanted to test if the zipper on his suit was functional and how much he could shift off and remain transformed. If he could–

No, that wasn't possible. She couldn't take off her own suit. But if she could–

She'd want to slip into his lap, slide onto him, feel how he filled her, and see what kind of noises she could drag out of him. She wanted to see if his teasing nature carried over or if he was pure enthusiasm through and through. 

She just wanted to _want_ without worrying about the inevitable consequences, about the terrifying domino effect of reaching for the smallest bit of happiness.

She could imagine him. Hair mussed up, mouth swollen and red, mask just slightly (impossibly) crooked, breathing hard, smiling fiercely before burying his face in her shoulder and gasping out as he rocked into her, _"Of course, my lady."_

She groaned and slipped her fingers into herself, clenching down _hard_ around them.

It took effort to keep upright as her body convulsed against the onslaught. Legs spread and braced against the wall, she felt herself tighten and gush around her fingers. She swallowed back her cry, but her whimpers still echoed in the small space.

On and on it went, until she carefully collapsed onto the shower floor, strung out and relieved.

She knew almost immediately that it wasn't the end of it. That it wasn't completely satisfied. Tikki was right. It helped, but the itch wasn't gone. Just soothed. And that meant she was on a time limit. Maybe if she was better practiced at this or less stressed she'd be able to work it out of her system more thoroughly, but it had already been too long.

Shakily, she stood back on her feet and took stock of herself.

A little bit guilty, a little bit giddy. Relieved and ashamed and already considering the battle ahead, but still herself. Still Marinette.

And Marinette probably should talk to Chat Noir after all of this. And Tikki.

She couldn't let this stand, couldn't let it turn into another obsession. She needed to handle this before it handled her.

After they took care of Docteur Chimique, they would talk. _After_ , she promised.

Quickly, she cleaned herself up.

Not being of a mind to bring a change of clothes with her, she hurried out of the bathroom in a towel to her room. There, she carefully dried off and went through her drawers, plucking out a pair of shorts and loose shirt that were nearly too light for the spring weather. 

She took one look at her bra and groaned, deciding on the spot to forego it. Not like that kind of thing mattered in the Ladybug suit. The wonders of magical bust support.

She wrote a short note for Alya, letting Tikki sneak it into her room and onto her nightstand. Needing to do something else, something more to make up for essentially skipping out on her sick best friend, Marinette left some medicine and a glass of water in the kitchen. She didn't even consider trying to leave them in Alya's room. The chance of waking her up was too risky.

She'd make it up to her later, she swore. Once this was all finished, she'd buy Alya her favorite wine and think of a Ladybug exposé she could use to quiet her blog rival for a bit.

Guilty conscience still eating at her, she ferreted out her phone and made a call. It went to voicemail as she expected. "Hey Nino, it's Marinette. I know you said you already planned on dropping by, but could you check on Alya as soon as your rehearsal finishes? Some important errands popped up, and I don't want to leave Alya alone too long. There's some soup in the refrigerator if Alya is up to eating. And pastries on the counter if you'd like some. Thanks so much. Talk to you later."

Dropping her phone back into her bag, Marinette took a deep breath and stared down the ladder to the roof.

"Ready, Tikki?"

"Ready!" Tikki spun in the air, before nuzzling Marinette's cheek.

She smiled at her kwami. For the moment, she felt clear headed and determined and so very lucky to have a friend like Tikki.

"Tikki, spots on!"

* * *

Ladybug leapt from the roof of her apartment, quick to distance herself from her home before stopping. With their view half-obstructed by a row of chimneys, it was worlds easier discreetly exiting her flat than it had been living at the bakery. But it was always better to make sure there weren't any prying eyes.

Ignoring how suddenly aware she was of the snug – very, very _snug_ – fit of her Ladybug suit, she got out her yo-yo to call Chat Noir. After a second of indecision, she opted out of the video function.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Hey–"

"Ladybug! Are you okay?" he burst out, a tumble of worried words cutting off her damage control before she even started.

He looked better than when they parted. Or at least drier. But the pinched expression tugged at her. 

"I'm okay. What's the situation? Did anything happen while I was gone?" _Gone_. The heaviness of the omission weighed on her shoulders, but she brushed it off. She was here now.

But that didn't stop her from being thankful he couldn't see her face. She couldn't blame the concoction for the blush that heated her cheeks when she saw him. Or how her eyes watched his mouth.

Best to get it all out now before they met up.

He didn't exactly look satisfied with her answer, but he dropped it. A temporary concession, no doubt. " _Well,_ " he demurred, nails tapping against his chin. "Our lovely Docteur tracked down Dr. Jouvet, fed him some sort of truth serum, and is currently broadcasting him naming all the wrongs he's done to the Parisian medical community. Apparently the world of medicine is quite cutthroat, who knew?"

Ladybug sighed, relieved. It was the best she could have hoped for, realistically speaking. Maybe not for Dr. Jouvet, but if telling the truth was the worst thing to happen to him, it was far kinder than what Docteur Chimique was capable of.

If it wasn't, then, well... If the truth was so damaging, maybe it needed to be said.

"That's better than I expected," she breathed out, stifling the twinge in her hips when the early evening breeze picked up. "I, ah...talked to Tikki when I was detransformed and– You wouldn't happen to have my Lucky Charm, would you?"

Chat Noir blinked. "The...gas mask?"

"Yes."

He frowned, looking at the ground. "So that's why..." 

"What?"

"Ah," he cleared his throat. "I don't have it, but I know where it is?"

Apprehension cut through the warmth creeping back into her skin. "Where?"

Chat Noir grimaced. "Docteur Chimique." Before she could react, he rushed to tack on, "I'm sorry, I left it behind when I escaped with you and she must have picked it up. But if I had known..."

She knew neither of them were to blame, but her own misplaced guilt was quick to remind her that he couldn't see her face, that he couldn't tell with a glance she wasn't angry or upset. "No, it's okay. At least we know where it is. We'll need it." He heaved a sigh and nodded, but his face didn't change. She frowned. "It's not your fault, Chaton. I didn't think we needed it either. Before this, it always disappeared whenever I didn't use it before I detransformed. But Tikki insisted it's what I need to fix this." But first she had to get there and retrieve it. "So, the TV studio then? TVi's again?" 

The dejection lingered but Chat was so very good at bouncing back, or at least putting his feelings aside for more pressing matters. And she let him, all too easily. "They really do have an akuma problem don't they? I guess it's the price you pay when you're the largest TV network in Paris. But hey, at least we know the layout pretty well at this point?"

He had a point. "Gotcha. Okay, I'll meet you on the roof and we'll take it from there."

"Wait!" Chat Noir practically yelped before Ladybug ended the call. "How...how are you feeling? Really. Before you left you looked..." Either hesitant or unwilling to finish that sentence, he trailed off.

Chewing her lip, she wavered for a long moment before turning the video function back on. "Better. Not completely fine, but, yeah, better." She hoped a little honesty would reassure him, but she didn't count on the way his whole face lit up. She averted her eyes. "It won't matter in the end if we stop her, but we still don't know where the akuma is located. Any ideas?"

"If it wasn't the beaker – oh, which she replaced with a test tube, by the way – then... Maybe her goggles? Or, no–she would have been more likely to have her stethoscope on her when she was akumatized, right?"

Ladybug nodded. "Sounds promising. Okay, I'll be there in a bit. Meet you on the roof?"

"Got it. And...take care, my lady."

She swallowed and ended the call.

Living on the outskirts of the city center, it wasn't exactly a short trek from her apartment to the TVi building. When she lived at the bakery everything seemed nearby. But as much as she loved her parents to pieces, the trade-off for independence and privacy had been a relatively easy one until today.

She swung and jumped from rooftop to rooftop, pushing herself to make the trip shorter, more direct. She felt heat flare up every time she landed, but it was still muted enough to shake off without faltering. 

It still took time to arrive.

With a throw shakier than she had hoped, Ladybug catapulted herself to the skyscraper that served as TVi's studios and offices, and landed on top of one of the rooftop billboards advertising Jagged Stone's Final Adieu Tour.

There, she found Chat Noir pacing back and forth.

From up high, she watched him. 

Since she could remember, he was a shock of black and blond. Perpetually fluffy hair, limbs always in motion. Nowadays, far too tall for his own good, and edging on too lean.

Just for a moment, she opened the floodgates and let the surge of shame and indulgence crash into her. As muddled as she had been, she remembered how she had mouthed her silly nickname for him to completion. How much she wanted him there with her in the shower, mask or no mask, pinning her to the slick wall so she wouldn't fall. 

She remembered his look of fear and resignation before she abandoned him on that rooftop. How he had to scrap for even the barest of reassurances that she was okay, that this wasn't about her not trusting him.

She took all those feelings, her messy menagerie of emotions that grew more tangled by the day, and held them close to her heart. 

And locked them up tight.

There would be time later to agonize over what happened today. Time to regroup and decide once and for all if the status quo was tenable. Time to apologize and see if she wasn't the only one slowly losing her mind.

Right now, the clock was ticking.

Slinking down from her perch, Ladybug pursed her lips and– "Pspspsps." 

A helpless smile stretched her lips as the ears on the top of his head perked up and Chat Noir swiveled on his heel to greet her. 

"Ladybug!" 

"Sorry for taking so long. What's the situation?"

He vibrated in place, hands mindlessly fiddling with his baton as eyes scoured her from head to toe. She only indulged him for so long, not willing to surrender to the blush she felt returning or to invoke something more problematic. 

She gently bopped him on the head. "Chat Noir? The situation?"

"Oh. Right!" He shook his head, breaking his single-minded scrutiny, but his eyes remained fixed on her. "So, the building is empty. Everyone already evacuated once the akuma alert went off. But Docteur Chimique didn't seem interested in anyone else once she got a hold of Dr. Jouvet...who is actually still chattering up a storm. I was worried about what she would do when he was finished with all his and his family's dirty dealings, but nope. Still going."

"Are they in the main shooting studio?"

"Not this time. I'll show you."

Baton in hand, he manipulated it into its phone function and pulled up the newsfeed.

Surrounded by a painted plywood forest of willow trees and mushrooms, Dr. Jouvet sat on a tuffet at the head of a long table that was primly decorated and filled with lab equipment. Stuffed animals in what Ladybug could only describe as attire suitable for a tea party at a hospital occupied the other seats, little beakers filled with different colored substances sitting delicately on the saucers before them.

"The children's studio?"

"Yep! And look there." He tapped on the screen as Chimique slipped into view, flitting around the table as she checked the progress of whatever was cooking in the equipment on the table. Every so often, she'd turn to move to another section and...there, attached to her belt, was a familiar red and black polka dotted gas mask.

It really hadn't disappeared when she had detransformed. Why? Were her powers that adamant about using this Lucky Charm? 

Master Fu once said the Ladybug Miraculous worked in mysterious ways. But she hadn't thought that meant breaking the few absolutes of her powers.

Were there any true absolutes of Ladybug? Besides being the one to purify akuma and amok. But then, what if she got the Butterfly Miraculous back like she had with the Peacock Miraculous? Did the Ladybugs of the past only clean up after those who abused their Miraculouses? Or did they use their powers for other purposes?

Wholly oblivious to the deep dive her thoughts had taken, Chat Noir shut his baton and holstered it back on his belt. "Alright, which one do you want to grab first? Your Lucky Charm or the–did we decide that the stethoscope was...?"

Tucking away the many, _many_ questions she had for Tikki, she turned Chat's inquiry over in her head. She had thought about it on the way over. The stethoscope didn't feel like a surefire bet, but it did make the most sense. Weren't they an emblem of healthcare professionals, after all? It could have easily become an important symbol to someone striving to become a doctor.

"It does seem more likely than the goggles. But I say we get my Lucky Charm back first."

It was supposed to be the key to fixing this. And it was rare that she defeated the akuma without it.

The last time had been years ago with Monsieur Rat. Her Lucky Charm had been a small party popper whose only purpose was to make Chat snort. They had both needed that little bit of sillyness after an aggressive campaign against the rat problem in Paris had made M. Ramier an emotionally compromised snack for any wandering butterflies.

Four akumatizations in one day. _Oof_.

"Maybe you can go for the stethoscope? Or at least distract her while I snatch back my Lucky Charm." Scenarios whirled in her mind. "Play it safe though and don't get splashed."

He gave her a blank look. "You got splashed and you said you were fine."

Ladybug winced. She knew his concern wasn't so easily dissuaded that she could plow through them with a few quick assurances. But she had hoped he would wait until they had dealt with Docteur Chimique. "It was. I am. But it wouldn't have been if I had waited a minute or two." 

"Would it have been that terrible for me to help you? I would have–I could have done _something_ to help without seeing your face."

Ladybug let herself imagine it, just for a moment. Letting Chat Noir take her somewhere safe. Somewhere private. Changing back into her normal self, only to collapse in a flustered mess of arousal while he waited behind a door and asked her what he could _do_.

Ladybug ducked her head. "At that moment, it would have been a disaster." Or it could have worked too well at relieving the itch that plagued her and _god_.

When they were younger his surrender would have been flippant. Maybe even sulky if he thought she didn't trust him or was blowing him off. Now...

"...Okay. Right. I got it." Eyes on his feet, he deflated with a resigned sigh that was already being papered over. His face cleared, expression maddeningly neutral, as he took a deep breath and cracked his back with a stretch. 

It was a look she detested. "Chat Noir, I didn't mean it like that." Time was a precious resource, but she could spare a moment or two to not let this misconception fester. 

She stepped forward, careful to rest her hand on his shoulder. "Look, what that blue smoke did to me... Once I realized–I panicked. But I knew it was something I could handle. Just... Alone." She let the words settle in the gap between them, hoping her face didn't match her suit.

Those unnaturally green eyes of his took on a speculative slant. "So you really..." he murmured, before he shook his head. "Okay. I trust you. But I wish you trusted me. Even if it's something small like getting you a cup of water."

"I do trust you." Her chest burned and she wasn't completely sure if that was all her. "I... I'll be as honest as I can be. I'm not 100%. And that percentage is slowly going down. We need to do this fast. If it comes to the point where my...my mobility is severely being affected, I need you to help me. And if you get doused with something too, this will be so much harder."

Chat Noir chewed his bottom lip. "You can't tell me what it is?" 

The flinch was involuntary. But he saw it. She had to say _something_. "...Body aches. That...make me weak and distracted."

He stared at her a moment longer before he nodded. "Okay. Thank you for telling me." Even if it wasn't the whole picture, even if she knew he knew that she was holding something back, Chat Noir's shoulders straightened and his expression smoothed out.

He probably had his guesses about what was wrong with her, but it was a small price to pay.

"Let's head down together. When we get to the floor of the kid's studio... I'll go around the back and hide up in the light rigging. That way I can look for a moment to swipe my Lucky Charm back."

"While _I_ show up in the front and distract her enough for you to do it." She could hear the rare stubbornness in his voice, his willingness to fight her on his.

She frowned, flicking open her yo-yo to study the scene broadcasting to all of Paris. "Wouldn't it be better if we could lure her out of the studio? I'm worried about what she might do to Dr. Jouvet. And there's also what she's making..." 

"Oh, it's probably for us," Chat Noir said far too pleasantly. "I can try to draw her out, but I don't think she'll want to take her eyes off Dr. Jouvet. It was baffling how much trouble she had catching him. Even this cat had trouble keeping track of that rat."

An idea started to form. "Huh. Maybe we could use that…"

Chat Noir grinned. "Why, Ladybug, are you suggesting we use the ethically dubious hostage as bait?"

"No!" Yes. Maybe. "Not like that. I wouldn't put him in any danger. I could tuck him away somewhere safe while you distract her. And then when she realizes he's gone, we'll take advantage of her distress."

"Hmm." Chat cracked his knuckles. "I'll have to create quite a scene to pry her from her patient's side. Or... Mm, perhaps she'll suffer from some temporary blindness? I know just where they keep the electrical panel."

It was risky. While Chat Noir had the advantage of seeing better in the dark, it would impair her as much as it would Docteur Chimique. But if she planned carefully... Chimique wouldn't know she was there until it was too late. 

"I'll leave it to you then." Her skin started to prickle, an unwanted reminder she had to swallow against. "But be careful, okay?"

He flashed her a grin, and her legs felt weaker for it. "I'll be careful, if you're careful."

"That's all I want, Chaton."

They travelled down to the floor of the children's studio without issue, taking the elevator straight down. With how many incidents she had in this particular lift, Ladybug usually preferred the stairwell or the side of the building. But she wasn't willing to risk speeding her circumstances along because of past experiences.

Her hands were already starting to tremor. Just a little bit. And running was edging on uncomfortable for how it jostled...everything. With how warm she was getting she was almost positive her face had a permanent pink tinge to it, but it was something she'd just have to deal with until this was all over.

She caught Chat Noir glancing at her a couple times, but she ignored him until they reached the studio doors.

"Right," she said, breathier than she should have been from their short sprint from the elevator. "I'll go to the other entrance in the back, behind the stage. I'll ping you when I'm in position." 

Ladybug made to run off, but Chat Noir caught her by the arm.

His touch _burned_. Whether it was the simple need for physical contact that set her off or just him, her whole body felt the touch down to her bone marrow. She stumbled, spine turning into boiling liquid, and he let her go instantly. Like he was the one scalded.

"Sorry!" He cupped his hand to his chest, looking distraught.

"No! It's not... Don't–don't worry about it. It's like I said. Body aches." She smiled weakly as she straightened. "But we need to finish this soon before it gets worse."

For as worried as he looked, Chat Noir must have finally realized the ticking clock. A prolonged conversation wouldn't be the thing to fix things now. "...Okay. Just...let me know if you need help."

If everything went right, then hopefully she wouldn't need it. "I will!" She waved him off as she turned to leave. "Be ready for my signal!" And she took off, not letting herself glance back.

She dashed around the corner to the other side of the studio. Only pausing to slap her cheeks hard enough to hurt, she slipped through the door and into the backstage.

She had only been to this particular studio once or twice, but she knew the floor to ceiling backdrop would cover her from sight. Dr. Jouvet's rambling confessions and the bubblegum sweet music filtering through the speakers would do the rest and drown out any noise she made.

She moved slowly, not trusting her body to not betray her at the worst moment, and cast her yo-yo up high. She wound it around the stretch of lights just above the backdrop and slingshotted herself on top when she was sure it would take her weight. 

She scuttled her way around the pipe grid – only allowing herself a moment to bite back a sharp exhale – and stopped when she was right above where Dr. Jouvet sat.

Her eyes skittered across the scene, not so much paying attention to Jouvet mumbling on about how he didn't write his own doctoral thesis, but memorizing where everything was. Her gaze caught on Docteur Chimique as she attended to her equipment, every so often cutting in to comment on something Jouvet said. And just like she had seen on the broadcast, there was her Lucky Charm, wholly intact and hanging off her waist.

Plan not entirely fleshed out yet, Ladybug looked all around the studio, cataloging the layout. She saw the panel Chat Noir had mentioned, easy enough for him to sabotage when he came through the front. She also noted the large boxes full of equipment that were scattered offstage, providing ample cover whenever Docteur Chimique spotted them. But what really snagged her attention was a door off to the side, tucked behind some unfinished set pieces.

_Studio D'enregistrement 5B_

Ladybug smiled and got out her yo-yo, sending out her signal.

It was a matter of seconds before Chat Noir slipped into the room as quietly as she had. From above, she saw him get close enough to the set until stealth became counterproductive. He caught her eye just before popping out and the wink he sent her had her biting the inside of her cheek.

As if he didn't have a care in the world, Chat Noir strolled up to the scene, whistling loudly and catching both Docteur Chimique and Dr. Jouvet's attention. 

"Pardon me! I'm here for my consultation? I seem to be having some trouble with my vision." With a sunny smile and a jaunty motion, Chat Noir twirled his baton before extending it right into the electrical panel, smashing through it.

The lights overhead flickered and died.

"Ooh la la! How contagious!"

Eyes trained on where she had seen Dr. Jouvet sitting, Ladybug lobbed her yo-yo, knowing just how to wrap it around her target and wrench them her way. 

There was no way to hush his initial gasp, but she covered his mouth once she reeled him in. "Shhh," she shushed. And when he continued to struggle, she hissed, "I'm trying to save you, Dr. Jouvet. So, _please_ cooperate." Not waiting for him to calm down, she threw her yo-yo again, catching on the end of the pipe grid, and swung herself to where she remembered the door was. 

Dr. Jouvet seemed to have other plans. Once they set down, she felt him try to furiously wriggle out of her grip. He wasn't yelling, but his grunts of struggle weren't exactly quiet now that the background music had been cut off. Hand over his mouth again, she was forced to use her yo-yo to tie him down while she patted the wall until she finally found the door.

Which was around when she sensed him latching onto her numb hand with his teeth.

_Really?_

An enraged screech sounded throughout the studio and a burst of fluorescence scattered around the stage. 

Hurriedly, Ladybug pushed down her annoyance and felt around for the handle. Gripping it, she pushed through, letting Dr. Jouvet fruitlessly bite down while physically lugging him with her. 

Behind the door was a small recording studio, dimly lit by what had to be a battery-powered night light. She quickly pried Dr. Jouvet's mouth off of her hand, giving him a foul look with another pointed, " _Shhhh_ ," and made her way through, all the while squinting at the layout and ignoring the defiant mutterings of the man she still had wrapped up in her yo-yo. It wasn't long until she found the sound booth.

Without hesitation, she opened the door and shoved her charge inside. "Dr. Jouvet, I suggest you stay here and keep quiet. No more running away."

He had a watery glare for her. "W-when my mother hears of this, Ladybug, she'll, she'll–" was all he could get out. Either the truth serum held his tongue or he just now realized he was threatening the person who held his fate in her hands. And he'd bitten one of them already.

Ladybug would never abuse that power, but her patience was all but gone. "Your family can't save you now, Dr. Jouvet. And neither can I if you don't _stay here_." Voice wavering, she closed the door on him, leaving him to the soundproof dark.

She leaned back against the door, irritation fleeing for that familiar gut-deep aching. Her hand trembled, venturing downward to rest on her lower stomach before she caught herself and slammed it against the wall. Even if she couldn't feel her fingers, the pain bloomed over the rest of her hand and down her arm, letting her think past the heat as she focused on the sting.

"Just a little bit longer," she muttered, closing her eyes, hand clutched to her chest.

Not quite believing herself, she struck the wall again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter got a _wee_ bit out of control, like 20k of words out of control, so I split it in two.


End file.
